Change is Everything
by TrickPhotography
Summary: When S.H.I.E.L.D. approaches historian Dr. Emily Harthorn to work on a 'classified project', she is drawn into a world of government secrets and politics. Re-acclimating a soldier to the 21st century...that's nothing she was prepared for. Events occur prior to and during The Avengers. Rated M as a precaution.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Sniffling loudly, Emily Harthorn dabbed at her eyes and watched as the uniformed man approached. Her mother, who was sitting behind her, reached forward and grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The last notes of 'Taps' faded away.

"On behalf of the President of the United States and the people of a grateful nation, may I present this flag as a token of appreciation for the honorable and faithful service your loved one rendered this nation," the Army honor guard said, kneeling and handing the folded flag to the woman sitting next to her.

"Thank you," the older woman whispered, taking the triangle and clutching it to her chest. Emily sniffled and dabbed her eyes again. After a moment the man to her left stood and walked to the casket. Wiping his eyes, the man kissed his fingertip before placing them on the wood. The woman let out a strangled cry before following his actions and placing a white rose on the coffin. Emily stood slowly and went to stand with them before leaning down and kissing the casket.

"I love you," she whispered.

OOO

Two years later

"Emily Rose Harthorn, Doctor of History, hooded by Dr. Collins." Emily beamed as she strode across the stage and handed the material to the woman who grinned back. After spinning to face the crowd, Em knelt slightly and watched as the white material was draped around her neck.

"Congratulations," Dr. Collins said as they hugged.

"Thank you," she replied before walking to shake the Dean's hand. After returning to her seat, Emily looked to where her family was sitting and saw them glowing with pride. When the ceremony ended, she struggled to meet with them outside of the hall.

"Congrats!" her mother yelled, emerging from the crowd and throwing her arms around her only daughter. "We're so proud of you."

"Thanks Mom," she laughed, catching her father's eye. He blinked away tears as he took his wife's place.

"I'm so proud of you, Dr. Harthorn," he said before kissing the top of her head. She laughed as her brother flung himself at her.

"So now you've gotta grow up," he teased, "no more hiding in school for you!"

"Hey, I could always go back and get another Masters," she warned, dodging his attempt to place her in a headlock. After taking the obligatory family photos, the Harthorns moved away from the building towards the parking garage. Once she'd checked that her family knew the way to the restaurant they had reservations for, she walked to the top floor and towards her car.

Only someone was standing by it. And it was too late; he'd seen her.

"Dr. Harthorn," he said, walking towards her. Emily wished that she hadn't stowed her purse in the trunk because now she didn't have her pepper spray.

"Erm, yes?" she replied, a question in her tone. She was subtly threading her keys through her fingers, ready to gouge his eyes out if anything were to happen.

"I'm Agent Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," he flashed a badge, but she was barely able to glimpse it. "I was wondering if I could have you look at something." Em eyed the folder in his hand.

"Now's not actually a good time. My family's waiting for me-"

"We're interested in your doctoral thesis," he paused and opened the folder, apparently looking for something. "Selling War: Politics, Propaganda, and Profits in World War II."

"I'd be more than happy to discuss this over the phone or e-mail-"

"If you would just look at this," he offered her the folder. Hesitantly, Emily reached for it and flipped it open.

"This is from the Captain America project, right?" she asked, flipping through photos of the iconic World War II character. She glanced up and saw him nodding; her eyebrows furrowed as she delved deeper into the file. "Where did you find these? I looked everywhere for information like this."

"It's classified," Coulson stated before reaching over and taking it from her. She watched as he tucked the information under his arm, her curiosity piqued.

"Well thanks for that," she said, wishing she'd had time to be more thorough in her examination. "I really have to-"

"What if I were to tell you that Captain America wasn't a propaganda?"

"I'd say maybe you've had a little to much to drink," she said before clapping a hand over her mouth. "That was rude." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. "And I'm sorry, but all evidence points to the Captain America being a tool created by the US government, particularly Senator Brandt, to sell war bonds."

"I can prove you wrong." Emily scrutinized him, and jumped as a door slammed. A loud group of new graduates trooped towards their cars, barely pausing to glance at them. "My boss would like to meet you to discuss this."

"I don't have time, honestly. My parents have probably already beaten me to the restaurant."

"Tomorrow. Think of it as a consultation." He reached into his internal jacket pocket and withdrew a white business card. "Think it over."

Emily took the card and looked at it. "S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Coulson didn't reply as he walked away and clambered into a black car. She could vaguely see the outline of another person sitting in the passengers seat. Shaking her head, Emily unlocked her car and opened the door before unzipping her black robes.

A picture was safety pinned to the inside of the robe, where it had rested against her heart. Sighing, she undid the fastening and looked at image of the man. "I did it, babe," she whispered before tossing the material into the passenger's seat and sitting down. After running a hand through her short, dirty-blonde bob, Dr. Emily Harthorn looked at the picture in her hand, tossed in into the center console, and drove to her waiting family.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

"This is stupid, so stupid," Emily berated herself as she walked towards the restaurant. Agent Coulson was waiting by the door, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun.

"I'm glad you called," he said before stepping aside and opening the door for her.

"I'm not sure why I did," she admitted, pausing in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. She'd expected a busy lunch crowd, but only one table was occupied.

An imposing man with an eye patch stood as Coulson ushered her towards him; she became more uneasy when she saw his black trench coat. Trench coats, she mused, never failed to bring up thoughts of movie villains. "Dr. Harthorn, thank you for coming. My name is Nick Fury, and I am the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Please, have a seat." He motioned her towards the chair that Agent Coulson had pulled out for her.

"Thank you," she said as lowered herself into it. Coulson nodded before walking back to the door and stepping outside. Emily wished that he had stayed; he was much less frightening than the figure in front of her.

"Before we begin, I want you to know that everything we discuss does not leave this room. And believe me, we'll know if you talk."

"Is that a threat?" she asked, sounding braver than she felt, her brown eyes narrowed.

He chuckled darkly, "More like a promise." He studied her for a moment before sliding a folder towards her. Emily reached for it and flipped the small file open. To her surprise, it was about her.

"What's this?" she asked, flipping past her driver's license picture and scanning the various academic records, what appeared to be a background check, and even her student's reviews of her.

"This is why I came here."

"My second grade readings scores were that impressive?" she mocked, snapping the file shut and sliding it back across the table. A hint of a smile touched his lips, but he remained silent. After a full minute, Emily spoke again. "Why do you need this thorough of a background check?"

"I have a…unique job opportunity to offer you."

"I'm listening," she said when he fell into silence again. Sitting up quickly, Fury leaned across the table and opened the folder again, flicking rapidly through the pages until he reached a highlighted portion.

"'_Captain America_," he read, "_was a symbol of the strength of character, morality, and American pride. The 'Star-Spangled Man' was the ultimate emblem of the government's utilization of nationalism to encourage civil engagement with the war efforts._' Well, I'm here to tell you that Captain America wasn't just a symbol, but an extraordinary man."

"An actor, you mean?"

"No. You studied the public side of what the Captain did. I'm going to tell you about Steven Rogers." Emily furrowed her eyebrows and leaned across the table.

"Steve Rogers was the man who pretended to be the Captain for the propaganda movement."

Fury regarded her for a moment before opening the folder to his left and sliding two pictures across the table. Emily watched him through narrowed eyes before leaning forward to examine the photos.

"There is no way steroids could have done that much," she gasped, her shock getting the best of her.

"Captain Rogers was part of an experiment. One that changed him from this," his gloved finger pointed to the picture of the meek man, "to this." Though she logically wanted to deny that such a change could occur, there was no denying the resemblance.

"What kind of experiment?"

"That's classified."

Emily looked longingly at the folder and let out a heavy sigh. It probably held so many answers to the questions that swirled around her head. Her confidence that this was some elaborate fraud was unraveling. The pictures…they could have been doctored, of course, but for some reason she didn't think they were.

"What is it that you need me for?"

"That's classified."

"Seriously?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "And what is the incentive for the job?"

"Just a moment," Agent Coulson said as he entered the restaurant, holding a cell phone to his ear. "Director, base needs to speak to you." Fury nodded and pushed his chair back from the table.

"Think about the offer," he said before sweeping from the building, pausing only to take the phone from Coulson.

"I didn't hear an offer!" Emily called after him, turning in her chair. Coulson smirked as he walked across the room and began gathering up the papers Fury had left. "Was there an offer in that vague conversation?"

"I've read your work," he said, rather than answering her question. "It's good. I also saw your presentation in Quebec. Your French is impressive."

"Second language," she brushed off the complement, "but I'm sure that's in my file somewhere."

"You should consider joining us at S.H.I.E.L.D." Emily stood up and smoothed her jacket down. Coulson motioned for her to go in front of him as they walked to the door together. "Your research…it would be mutually beneficial."

"Mutually beneficial? As in I would have access to this 'classified information'?" she motioned to the folders in his hand.

"And much more," Coulson assured her. "We also have a great benefits package." Emily laughed as she shook hands with him.

"Yeah, that'll be the tipping point."

"Call me when you come to a decision."

OOO

Emily swiped her student ID, frowning as the keypad flashed red. She tried again, only to have the same frustrating results. Taking a breath, she slid it slowly and stomped over to the door and threw it open with it finally turned green.

The conversation had been playing over in her head while driving back to the campus. It was hard to deny that her interest was piqued.

And really, she hadn't been thrilled with the job offer the university had given her. The post-doc position would allow her to continue her research, but it_ wasn't_ a lecturer position!

S.H.I.E.L.D. was offering more. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to move on.

Before the elevator reached the sixth floor, Emily had her phone out. By the time she'd reached her office, he'd answered.

"Dr. Harthorn?"

"So about this benefits package…"

OOO

"Monday?" Emily screeched.

"We need you in New York as soon as possible," Coulson said, unfazed by her outburst. He pulled the confidentiality agreement from yet another folder and set it on her desk.

"My parents don't even leave until tomorrow! How am I supposed to pack everything and move in a day and a half?"

"We will pay your relocation expenses and provide housing as long as you need."

"You're missing the point. It's Saturday afternoon. You want me there Monday."

"If you could sign this, we can start your paperwork and have it ready for when you arrive." Emily quickly read over the paper, her frown deepening with every line.

"Am I going to be dealing with national security secrets?"

"Sign here, please," Coulson again ignored her comment and handed her a pen. After she'd scribbled her signature, he took the paper and stood up. "I look forward to seeing you on Monday."

"See you then," she sighed. When he'd left the office, Emily collapsed back into her chair, panicking slightly as it tilted to the side and rolled backward. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

With another sigh, she pulled a piece of paper toward her and started making a list of things that needed to be done. When that was completed, she changed back into her jeans and t-shirt, grabbed a random book from the shelf, and left.

"Hey Mom, I have a favor to ask," she said when her mother answered the phone.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Wow, so I really didn't plan on posting this until the weekend, but I'm astonished by the response I've gotten. Just wanted to say a quick hello and thank you for the reviews, subscriptions, and favorites. I've had this idea bouncing around for quite a few months and after bouncing it off two of my friends (under the guise of talking to another author on ) and having it Bombshell1701 look over the first two chapters, I finally got the guts to post it.

That being said, I have a majority of the plot sketched out and I'm currently in the process of writing it down. However, I do have outside time constraints (grad school, research assistant job, and part-time job) that do require a majority of my attention. I will try to update at least once a week. Please don't give up on me! I do enjoy hearing what you all think, and please feel free to tell me if Emily becomes too much of a Mary Jane. Hope to hear from you soon!


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The box on her now empty desk was crammed with various papers, books, and a few pictures. Emily cast one last look around the room and sighed, thinking about all of the time she'd spent here researching, writing, and talking to students.

With another sigh, she picked up the box, flicked off the light, and pulled the door shut behind her. The hallway was dark and all of the other offices were shut. Emily wasn't surprised, as it was three in the morning and the semester had ended. Normally there would have been at least a few other graduate students there, either working or sleeping at their desks.

Emily paused only to leave the key that she'd had for the last four years on the main office's desk. Impatiently she waited for the elevator to climb the six floors, and then she heard it: footsteps. Her heart started to race and she hit the down button a few more times, glancing around.

"Emily," a man said as he turned the corner. Emily yelped and nearly lost hold of her box.

"You scared the crap out of me," she breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, actually. I guess I fell asleep," he rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling his untidy black hair in the process.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I heard that you were leaving."

"Last minute job offer," Emily said. She shifted the box again as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

"Wait!" the man said, stepping forward and reaching out for her. Sighing, she set the box down and crossed her arms across her chest. "Emily, why are you leaving? I fought for you to get the position here."

"Dave," she sighed, "it's a better opportunity." He strode forward and wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her hard.

"What about us?"

"What about us?" she echoed. "You knew that when this started, it wasn't going to go anywhere. We're just lucky nobody found out."

"You're a post-doc now. There's nothing wrong with a professor seeing a post-doc."

"Dave, you know….this was just…we weren't seeing each other. And I appreciate everything you did for me, I really do, but this wasn't a relationship. This was just a…mutually beneficial friendship."

"Maybe to you this wasn't a relationship, but to me it is," he protested. Emily took a deep breath and pushed him away. Her left hand shot out and pressed the down button again. He reached out and caught her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips. "One more time, for old time's sake."

She shook her head, "Goodbye Dave, good luck with everything." After picking up the box, Emily stepped into the elevator and gave Dave a weak smile as the doors slid shut.

OOO

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning out final descent to JFK. Please turn off all electronic…" Emily tuned out the flight attendant and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She had slept most of the flight, trying to make up for the time lost over the weekend.

Rubbing her eyes, Emily thought about the last day and a half. Her parents and brother had thankfully been very understanding about her sudden change in plans. Of course, they had said, a job at New York University was worth moving at a drop of a hat, even if it meant living in student housing for a bit. (Emily had to remember to thank Coulson for leaving the cover story on her voice mail.)

Her advisor had not been happy, but understood. The $400 fee to break her lease was a hit to her savings, but do-able. Finding a moving company? That had been nearly impossible. With everyone leaving for the summer, most of the trucks had been rented out, not that she had time to drive from North Carolina to New York. Instead, she'd hired a company to bring everything and store if for her until she found an apartment.

With a bump, the plane landed and Emily caught her first sight of New York. It had been a few years since she'd visited, and she'd never been here by herself. When the plane rolled to a stop, Emily stood, smoothed down her slacks and button up shirt, and retrieved her bag from the overhead bin and joined the queue to exit. When she finally reached the terminal, Emily took a moment to freshen herself up in the bathroom and to change into a pair of heels, slipping the flats into her bag.

By baggage claim, Emily saw a man holding a sign with her name on it. Her eyebrows furrowed as she had thought that Coulson would have met her, but she walked towards him nonetheless.

"Dr. Harthorn?" he asked.

"That's me," she answered, reaching to take his outstretched hand.

"I'm Agent Sitwell. Agent Coulson asked me to pick you up." Emily nodded and gave a small smile. "Do you have any bags to retrieve?"

"Yeah, two of them." He nodded his baldhead and adjusted his glasses before motioning for her to lead the way. "So what held Coulson up?"

"We…there was another arrival that he had to see to," Sitwell said evasively.

"I thought that when I got here, I would be let in on the big secret," Emily sighed. When the luggage carousel started, she was lucky enough to snag her duffle bag and suitcase on their first trip around.

"You will, Dr. Harthorn," Sitwell stated as he swung her bag onto his shoulder. "We just need to get back to headquarters, where you'll be briefed on the situation."

OOO

The non-descript building was only blocks from Time Square. Sitwell pulled his car into an underground garage, pausing only to press his thumb to a scanner. "We'll get your thumbprint scanned today so that when your car arrives, you'll have access to parking," he assured her.

"Thanks," she said, her eyes slightly wide with the security procedure. Sure, she had known that this was some sort of organization, but one that required thumbprint screening?

"We'll leave your things in the car for now. I'll bring them to your quarters later." Emily nodded and exited the car when he pulled it into a space. "This way, please."

It was a maze. Honestly, she didn't know how she would remember all of these twists and turns. Sitwell, however, strode easily around the building, nodding to a man and woman as they walked by. "Barton, Romanoff," he muttered.

"Sitwell," Barton nodded. The woman simply nodded and turned her eyes to Emily as they walked by. Emily gave her a weak smile, which wasn't returned.

"Two of our best agents," Sitwell said after they'd moved away from the two. "I didn't know they were back from Budapest."

"Oh," was all Emily said. Sitwell motioned for her to stop and pressed a button on the wall. Green lasers scanned his retina before the door opened; he motioned for her to proceed him, before taking the lead again. When he stopped at the next door, he paused and gave her a small smile before knocking and throwing it open.

"Dr. Harthorn is here," he announced. The three men in the room looked up as Emily entered; they were standing around a table, hiding whatever was on it from view.

"Dr. Harthorn," Director Fury said, holding out his gloved hand, "thank you for joining us."

"My pleasure," she said, trying to peer around him as she shook his hand.

"Good timing," Coulson was saying to Sitwell, "we just got set up."

"May I continue my examination?" the third man asked. Emily saw a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

Fury nodded and motioned for Emily to move closer, "Your student just arrived."

"Student?" she asked. Her knees nearly buckled when she saw what, or rather who, was on the table.

"Captain Steven Rogers, United States Army," Fury stated. Coulson stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on Emily's shoulder.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, so I struggled with whether or not to include Dave in the story. When talking with one of my friend, I had explained that I felt as though he was too much after her fiance. But then again, Emily's a grown woman who would have sought comfort after nearly two years. I imagined her 'relationship' with Dave starting as a friendship that progressed over drinks. In my mind, he's a recent graduate himself, not too much older than she is. So yeah, there's my explanation.

Thanks again for reading, and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"That's…that's impossible," Emily breathed. "He shouldn't….that can't…"

"Miss," the doctor said, turning his attention from the man on the table to Emily, "why don't you sit down?" He walked across the room and firmly steered her into an empty chair by the door. "Are you feeling faint?"

"A bit," she said. He nodded, crouched, and took her wrist in his hand, staring at his watch as he counted her heartbeats. Fury, Coulson, and Sitwell watched until the doctor nodded again and stood up.

"You're fine. Just shock, I suppose."

'_Just shock, I suppose,'_ Emily thought. _'Just shock, I suppose'_? She took a deep breath and pushed herself out of the chair, ignoring the quick movements the four made when she swayed slightly. "That cannot be Captain Rogers." Her voice was weaker than she'd hoped.

"I can assure you, he is," Fury stated, nodding to the doctor who resumed his examination of the unconscious man. "We've just located and recovered him from Greenland."

"'Located and recovered'?" she echoed, slowly walking forward. Coulson and Sitwell moved aside to let her approach the man. Tentitively, Emily reached out and felt his wrist, her heart racing when she felt how cold he was.

"All of the information you'll need is in the area we've prepared for you," explained Fury.

"We need to start warm IV fluids, continue the heating blankets, and get some x-rays, just incase anything was broken when he crashed," the doctor said. Fury nodded and turned his back on the unconscious man.

"Dr. Harthorn, we need you up to speed on what's going on here. When Captain Rogers wakes up, we want you to act as his teacher, bring him into the twenty-first century."

Emily, who had been studying the man's face (_Captain Rogers_…her brain rejected the thought), looked back at the director, "I…You…I-I need some air." Spinning on her heel, she rushed to the door and flung it open. Where she was going from there, however, Emily had no idea.

"Come with me," Coulson said, gently placing a hand on the small of her back. Emily nodded, feeling her breathing increase rapidly. When they finally reached the lobby, Coulson held the front door open for her and Emily burst onto the busy New York City streets.

"Oh god," she groaned, folding her arms and leaning her head against the building, "oh god, oh god, oh god."

"Take a deep breath, Dr. Harthorn," the agent advised, his back turned to her as his eyes darted around. Emily nodded, closing her eyes and forcing a breath deep into her lungs. Slowly, she released it, feeling slightly light headed.

"I'm dreaming, right? Or I've had a mental break? Too much coffee, not enough sleep type thing?"

"No, I assure you that this is not a dream or hallucination."

"That can't really be…"

"It is."

"He would be about 90 years old!"

"Ninety-two, actually." Emily forced herself to take another breath and turned to face the calm agent.

"It's not physically possible for _that man_ to be a World War II survivor."

"Doctor, I'm going to need you to suspend you understanding of reality," Coulson said, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "This job requires a certain amount of it. Ready to go back in?" Emily took another deep breath before nodding.

"Suspend my reality," she muttered under her breath. Inside she was trying to convince herself that Captain Rogers was in fact lying in that room. "Please tell me this is the biggest secret that I'll have to deal with while I'm here," she said to Coulson as they walked through the building. Her fingers were massaging her temples.

"I can't guarantee that," he replied. She looked up from the floor and gave him an exasperated look. Her eyes turned to the agent who was walking towards them, his face pointed down. "S.H.I.E.L.D. deals with a lot of things that aren't public knowledge that you may become privy to during your work with Captain Rogers." Her attention was drawn back to Agent Coulson just as the man looked up, paused, and darted down another hallway.

"What kind of secrets?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," he actually smiled as he opened the door to where Fury was waiting. Emily stepped in and looked from Fury to Captain Rogers, and then back at Coulson.

"You said you had material for me to review?"

Fury nodded, "You'll have full access to all information regarding Captain Rogers. Agent Sitwell will show you where we've put everything for you."

"Do you…" she looked at Captain Rogers again. "Are you sure he'll wake up?"

"I'm sure of it," the doctor stated, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck. "The serum protected him this long, I'm sure it'll last a bit longer."

"Serum?" The doctor frowned and looked at Fury, who shook his head. Emily watched the little exchange and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Agent Sitwell," Fury said, giving the Hispanic man a pointed look.

"If you'd come with me, Dr. Harthorn," he said promptly, ushering Emily out. "Everything that you want to know is going to be in the files," he assured her once they'd reentered the hallway. "It's just quicker for you to read the material than for us to tell you everything. If you'd follow me to HR first, however, we can get everything else set up for you."

OOO

It had taken all of Emily's patience to sit through signing her contract (and a more extensive non-disclosure agreement) and moving her bags into the private room that they'd given her. She was itching to dive into the research, wanting to find answers to the questions that were swirling around her head. Sitwell had been insistent on them filling out the paperwork and getting her settled, however.

When they finally went to her new office, it was already past 5 o'clock. Sitwell had been looking at his watch, and he'd mentioned dinner plans a few times over the course of the day. Knowing that he wanted to leave as quickly as possible, Emily did nothing to delay him.

"These are the keys to the conference room where we've got you set up," he explained, removing a key ring from his pocket. "If you find that you're missing something that you need, you can push star button on the speaker phone and we'll get an agent down here promptly. As the Director said, we need you up to speed as quickly as possible."

"You don't need to tell me twice," Emily said, exasperation creeping into her tone as they traversed yet another hallway. She'd been attempting to keep track of where they'd been, but she was hopelessly lost. Perhaps they could supply her with a map…

"So this is it," he paused in front of a door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. His hand groped the wall for a moment before the room was flooded with light. Emily gasped.

Boxes upon boxes of papers, film reels, and pictures filled the room. A film projector was on the table, and a white screen covered the far wall.

"Here's the keys, and good luck," Sitwell said, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder, before he turned and away.

Still in a daze, Emily walked into the conference room and shut the door. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor as she strode over to the boxes and opened the first one. She withdrew a folder embossed with "SSR" that was filled with reports on troop movements and held it at arm's length. A few names jumped out at her, ones that she'd come across during her dissertation research: Colonel Chester Phillips, Johann Schmidt, even President Roosevelt was mentioned.

Giddy with excitement, Emily untucked her shirt, put on her glasses, and began to sort through her new treasure trove.

OOO

"You really think she's the best one for the job?" Fury asked, watching as Dr. Harthorn arranged files on the table.

"Her research is solid," Coulson replied. "Our analysts had to divert her a few times when she was writing her dissertation."

"And you're sure the professor from Michigan wouldn't have taken the position?"

"He's tenured, just put a down payment on a new house. Besides, she's closer to Captain Roger's age. She's the right choice, Director." Fury grunted and turned his attention to another screen. He watched as the doctor inserted a needle into Roger's arm and tucked blankets around him.

"You'll oversee the prepping of the re-acclimation room?"

"Of course. Sir, do you think it's the best course of action?"

"The psychologist says to break it to him slowly, so that's what we're going to do." Coulson nodded and with a quiet, "Sir", he left the room.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So what do you think about Emily's reaction? Authentic?

Also, I have been asked a few times about where this story falls in the Avengers timeline. Well, I've always pictured it beginning after the Cap's plane is found in Greenland. S.H.I.E.L.D. would be scrambling (if they can do such a thing) to find some way of getting him back and waking him up; after that, they'd require a team in place to help him. So I think that Coulson would have approached Emily about two days after Cap was found. Once he wakes up, I will be playing with the timeline a bit. Cannon says that it's only a few weeks between his awakening and the events of The Avengers. However, I have a lot of plans for him that would require a bit more than just a few weeks.

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. I try to respond to every person that reviews, but if you do so anonymously or without login in (oh yeah, that's enabled by the way), I will just say thank here, and I hope you continue reading.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"I knew it!" Emily laughed, jumping up from her spot on the floor and dancing around. "In your face Dr. Collins!" She pumped her fist in the air, gleefully re-reading the document in her hand. "'No, Emily, she's an old woman. You don't want to go traipsing off to England for a dead end'," she mimicked her professor's sharp tone. Emily grabbed one of the highlighters and outlined a section of the report before making a notation in the margin.

Her conversation with herself was cut short by a sharp knocking at the door. "Come in," she called hesitantly. A quick glance at her watch showed that it was nearly 8 o'clock.

"Hello," the older man with a British accent said as he pushed the door open. His bespeckled eyes scanned the room before landing on Emily, who was hidden behind a tower of empty boxes.

"Hi," she replied.

"I'm Henry Thompson." Emily gave him a blank look, which caused him to chuckle. "I'm the psychologist that will be helping Captain Rogers."

"Oh," she said, stepping around the piles she'd made on the floor and reaching to shake his hand. "Emily Harthorn."

"Yes, the historian," he stated, shaking her hand. "Welcome to the team."

"Thanks. Were you brought in specifically to help Captain Rogers?"

"Oh goodness no," Dr. Thompson chuckled again, "I'm the S.H.I.E.L.D. psychologist. After coming back from the field, our agents are required to have a session with me as part of their debriefing."

"Oh," Emily said again.

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to a late dinner. I'm sure the cafeteria must have something available at this time." Before she could answer, Emily's stomach gave a loud growl. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Sure," she blushed, pressing a hand to her stomach. "I've been traveling all day and, well…" she motioned to the boxes.

"Happens to me all the time," he nodded. "Shall we?" It took Emily a moment to locate the keys and her shoes, but Dr. Thompson stood patiently in the doorway. They were quiet as they walked through the hall, Emily a step behind him so that he would lead.

"Have you been with S.H.I.E.L.D. long?"

"Oh, about ten years," he answered. "It's rather fascinating work, you know."

"I can imagine."

"Yes, I'm sure you can. May I ask how you came to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention? I know Agent Coulson was rather enthusiastic about the possibility of assisting Captain Rogers himself."

"No idea. I guess my thesis." The psychologist nodded again as they walked into a nearly empty cafeteria. The two agents that Sitwell had spoken to earlier`, Romanoff and Barton she thought, were sitting in silence with their backs to the wall, picking at a plate of French fries.

Emily and Dr. Thompson were quiet as they filled their tray with food; Emily skipped the soda and instead went for a large coffee. Once both had paid the rather bored looking attendant, they sat on the opposite side of the room from the two agents. "Have you had a chance to look at the personality profile?" Thompson asked.

"I haven't come across it yet." He nodded.

"When you do, I'm sure you'll find it fascinating. As his...guide, for lack of a better term, I would caution you that it might be difficult to help him."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The psychologist before me noted that he was independent and often showed a desire to 'fend for himself'. As you might imagine, he might find it difficult to rely so fully on another person, no matter how lost he is." Emily nodded and took a tentative sip of her coffee before reaching for the sugar. Dr. Thompson studied her for a moment before continuing. "Another issue we might be facing is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if what happened during the War, coupled with what is sure to be a shock of finding himself in the current predicament, will trigger such an event."

"So watch for the normal indicators," Emily nodded. "Inability to sleep, nightmares when he does, flashbacks, outbursts, heightened awareness…"

"Yes. Did you study psychology yourself, Dr. Harthorn?"

"No," she said, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips. "I've had some experience with it. My fiancé… well, he had some problems when he came back from his first tour in Iraq."

"Ah. And will he be joining you in New York?"

Her eyes got hot and she looked away, landing on the two agents who were nearly asleep across the room. "No. He didn't make it back from Afghanistan."

"My condolences," Dr. Thompson said quickly. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. "You're taking this all remarkably well, you know."

Emily chuckled and took another sip of coffee. "Agent Coulson told me to 'suspend my understanding of reality'."

"Wonderful advice. Now, shall we go see our patient before retiring for the evening?" They discarded their mostly empty trays and Emily refilled her coffee before they exited with the psychologist waving to the two agents. He once again took the lead as they traveled the mostly deserted hallways.

"I don't think I'll ever figure my way out around here," she said, sighing heavily as they rounded another turn.

"It takes a while, I will admit, but then you'll find your own shortcuts," he assured her. "I'd like to show you this." He opened another door and motioned for her to go in first. Emily stepped in and looked around the massive room.

"What is this?"

"This, my dear, is where we will begin reintroducing Captain Rogers to the world. If you would step inside with me…" he motioned to the rectangular structure that dominated the room. Emily walked in and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Is this where he'll be staying?"

"Just until he wakes up. I thought it might be easier, you see, if he believes that he has only just crash landed. This will serve as a recovery room. Out these window," he pointed to the windows on either side of the bed, "we'll set up boards that replicate 1945 New York. Audio will be piped into to mimic traffic, and voila, we have a re-acclimation room." Emily walked around the room before sitting on the bed.

"I'm assuming that someone will be monitoring him?"

"Of course. Right over there," he pointed to the right where a vase of flowers was sitting on a dresser, "is where the camera is hidden. At the first sign of him regaining consciousness, we will send an agent in."

"You won't be speaking to him first?"

"Gracious no, though believe you me, I've tried. Director Fury is set on having an agent be the first to make contact in case the Captain becomes violent. Oh, don't you worry," he said quickly upon seeing the look on her face, "I don't believe he will, but precautions must be made."

"Well, I hope for the agent's sake that everything goes as planned."

"Yes. Now I was wondering if I might speak to you about your role in all of this."

"My role?"

"Why yes," he smiled, "you're an integral part of his recuperation. Now, I want you to be one of the first that he meets, once the news has been broken to him. I'm hoping that he will turn to you as a friend and confidant."

"Isn't that your job? I thought I was just a history teacher."

"No, no, my dear girl, you will be so much more than that!" Dr. Thompson strode across the room and sat next to her, "You will become his anchor to the present. We're hoping that he will turn to you, even if he does not wish to speak to others about what he's thinking."

"So you want him to imprint on me? Like a baby duck?" she asked. Emily was reeling inside with all of these new expectations.

Dr. Thompson laughed, "Not quite, but it's a rather good analogy. No, Dr. Harthorn, you are to become his friend."

"Not asking a lot, are you," Emily sighed. Dr. Thompson laughed again and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle pat.

"I'm sure you won't have any difficulty. Shall we go pop by to see Captain Rogers?" Emily shrugged non-committal way as the psychologist pulled her to her feet. A few more twists and turns later, they were in the medical wing.

"God, he's so young," Emily sighed as they stood by his bed. She gazed down at Captain America and resisted the urge to touch him to make sure he was real.

"Twenty-five, if I recall correctly. Of course, correcting for the time difference, I believe he's ninety-two." Emily shook her head.

"Can you imagine being in his position?" her brown eyes studied his face. Hesitantly, hand shaking slightly, Emily took his hand in hers. His dwarfed hers as she gave it a gentle squeeze.

Dr. Thompson, however, was examining Dr. Harthorn. He noted how intently she was looking at the man and smiled slightly. Yes, she would be able to handle this job, he was confident of it. "Now, if we're quite done here, I'm sure my wife is furious at my lateness. Shall I show you back to your room?"

"The conference room, if you don't mind," she replied, pulling her gaze away from the unconscious man. "I've got a lot more work left to do before our 'patient', as you called him, wakes up."

"Yes, yes, of course." Emily gave Captain Roger's hand another soft squeeze, before letting go.

"Now I wanted to speak to you about your clothing," Dr. Thompson said as they walked out of the room.

"My clothing?"

"Yes. I was thinking that, in order to preserve the illusion of this being 1945, it might be best if we were to have you wear a military uniform from the time period."

"If you think it best," Emily sighed.

Unobserved by either of the retreating doctors, Captain Steve Rogers' hand twitched.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So whenever I've pictured Dr. Thompson, I've always seen Stephen Fry in this role as Dr. Gordon Wyatt on Bones. I find him rather interesting, as he's an academic, like Emily, but is also a S.H.I.E.L.D. employee.

And although this may seem like a filler chapter, I assure you that it's not. I felt that it was important to go into why the 'recovery room' ruse was necessary. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it =]


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Emily bolted out of bed, startled out of her deep sleep by a loud pounding on the door. She quickly grabbed her glasses from the desk beside the bed and strode across the room, tripping on a box and slamming her shoulder into the wall with a loud "fuck!" slipping from her mouth. "What is it?" she asked, rubbing her shoulder and squinting at the bright light of the hallway.

"We need you to come up right now," the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stated.

"Why?"

"Captain Rogers is conscious." Emily's eyes widened as her jaw dropped.

"Right, of course. I'll just get changed."

"Ma'am, Director Fury wants you up there right now."

"Well he's going to have to wait until I at least put on a bra," she snapped, closing the door quickly and flicking on the light. The small room was suddenly illuminated as she stumbled across it, reaching for the uniform Dr. Thompson had dropped off two days before and stripping off her night clothes. As quickly as possible (without causing runs), Emily pulled on the stockings and did a few lunges as she pulled on the discarded bra and buttoned the off-white shirt with shaking hands.

A quick glance in the mirror caused her to pause and let out a groan of frustration. Black eyeliner was smeared under her eyes and her hair looked like a rat's nest. For the past three days, she'd been camped out in her makeshift office, leaving only for the occasional meal break, shower, or meeting. Once, she'd gone to see Captain Rogers in the re-acclimation room, but had left after a few minutes. Seeing him unconscious, lying so still, was unnerving.

"Dr. Harthorn," the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent called again, pounding on the door.

"Just a minute!" she snapped, quickly swiping away the eyeliner and running a brush through her hair. From her purse, she retrieved a piece of mint gum and began chewing it while pulling on the skirt and hunting for the damned tie. When she'd located it under her dirty shirt from the day before, Emily put on the heels, slamming her hand on the desk when she nearly fell. "Ready," she said, pulling open the door with the undone tie hanging around her neck.

"This way," the man ordered, taking the lead. Emily fell in behind him and tried to do the tie before giving up and focusing on tucking in her shirt. "In here." He threw open a door and stood aside for her to enter, snapping it shut behind her promptly.

"Holy shit," she breathed. Sitting on the medical bed looking rather frazzled was Captain Steve Rogers. His blue eyes snapped in her direction and then he frowned before turning his attention back to Director Fury.

"Dr. Harthron," Dr. Thompson said, walking over to her. "If you would join me over here."

"What happened to the re-acclimation room?" she asked, her gaze still trained on the Captain as the psychologist gently pushed her into an empty chair in the corner.

"Damned baseball game," he muttered, obviously angry about something. "Well, our grand plan to reintroduce him was ruined. Captain Rogers is fully aware of his situation."

"What? I thought…"

"Yes, well-"

"Dr. Thompson," Director Fury called. The British man gave a little sigh and strode over to where Fury, Rogers, Coulson, and the medical doctor were standing. Emily once again caught Captain Roger's attention and she gave him a weak smile. For something to do, her fingers once again attempted to do the tie again before, angrily, she pulled the material from around her neck and laid it across the arm of the chair. Instead, she turned to eaves dropping on the quiet conversation being had, ignoring the gentle throbbing in her shoulder and hand.

"-Astonishing that your muscles did not atrophy while you were unconscious," the doctor said. "You seem to be in perfect health."

"Now, I would like to set up a meeting for at least once a week to discuss your progress," Dr. Thompson said after. "I will help you process what has happened."

Emily surreptitiously studied the Captain. He looked…lost. There was no other word to describe it. His eyes, while flicking towards the person speaking, were unfocused. His broad shoulders were hunched, and he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world. Wide hands clutched his knees, as though the feel of the fabric would root him in reality. A sense of incredible sadness seemed to emanate from him.

Settling back into the chair, Emily rested her head in her hand and felt her eyes drooping. She'd been planning on at least a two-hour nap and had been woken up with less than 30 minutes. When was the last time she'd slept a full night? Was it last Thursday? No, she'd gone out to have drinks with the Department. Friday, her parents had been over late celebrating…so Wednesday. Eight days ago.

"Dr. Harthorn," Coulson said. "Dr. Harthorn?"

"Yes?" she said, snapping to attention. Coulson smiled slightly and held out a hand, which Emily grasped and stood up. Fury was watching her, his one visible eye narrowed. "Sorry," she said quietly.

"Have you slept at all?" Dr. Thompson asked when she joined the ring of men.

"Not much," she admitted, giving him a small smile. He shook his head and turned to Captain Rogers.

"Dr. Harthorn will be helping you with your day-to-day life," Fury stated. Captain Rogers nodded and looked at the five people standing around him, his eyes finally landing on Emily.

"Look," he said, his voice somewhat gruff from lack of use. "I appreciate the offer to help me, but I think I'd like to give this a shot by myself." Emily's brown eyes turned away from Captain Rogers' steady gaze and met the psychologist's. Dr. Thompson turned to Emily and gave her a somewhat smug look, motioning slightly with his hand.

"You sure? A lot's changed," Emily said after another prodding look from Thompson.

"Yes ma'am," Rogers nodded. Emily felt her heart ache as she met his gaze. While to the others he may have seemed calm, she had seen the defense before. It had been the same with her fiancé when he'd come back from Iraq. Her hand twitched as she fought reaching out to him.

"Captain, perhaps you should meet with Dr. Harthorn, at least in the beginning," Coulson offered. There was a silent stand-off until Fury ended it.

"Dr. Harthorn will be available for any questions that you might have. You should meet with Dr. Thompson, however."

"Very informal. We can even meet for drinks, if you prefer," Thompson added.

Emily's heart sank. Sure, she hadn't had high hopes about helping Rogers with the transition, but then again he was an excellent primary source. Talking to him would have given her answers to questions she hadn't even thought of! And now, now there wasn't even the promise of that. The captain nodded.

"I need the room," Fury stated. Emily looked at Coulson, who nodded and walked to the door, motioning for the three doctors to exit.

"Coffee, Dr. Harthorn?" Thompson asked.

"I don't think that's working for me anymore," she answered as they walked into the hallway. As they exited, Emily turned and looked at Captain Rogers again, still in disbelief that he was alive. Coulson nodded to Fury, gave a small smile to Rogers, and closed the door behind him.

"What you saw outside," Fury said, crossing his arms, "is just a taste of what's to come. It's a strange world out there, Cap."

"With all due respect, Sir, I've seen strange."

"I've read the files," Fury smirked. "Hydra was advanced, but this is different. If," he said, recognizing the slightly frustrated look on the Captain's face, "you insist on doing this alone, you will have support. Dr. Harthorn, though…young," he finally said, his tone not implying confidence, "would be a valuable tool for you."

"I'll keep her in mind," Rogers said.

"There's a lot we need to talk about, but there's time for that. We've set up a room for you. Your personal belongings were stored off site but they're being shipping in as we speak. If you need anything, find Agent Coulson, Dr. Thompson, or myself."

"Thank you," he said, pushing himself off of the table. Fury held out his hand, and Rogers shook it.

"Welcome to the future."

OOO

"Are you sure I'm not hallucinating?" Emily asked as she settled in the cafeteria chair. "Because I'm pretty sure I just imagined Captain Roger's being alive."

"You need sleep, girl," Thompson stated. He shook his head as he examined her, noting the deep bruises under her eyes.

"I'm sure your motor skills are diminished," Dr. Kingston added before taking a sip of his coffee. The medical doctor had _finally_ introduced himself.

"Maybe," she said coyly, wrapping her throbbing hand around the cold energy drink in front of her.

"I can give you something to help you sleep if you need it," Kingston offered.

"I'm in the zombie stage of sleep depravation right now. All I need is someplace to lay down, and a long stretch of uninterrupted time," Emily smirked. "I have a feeling that I might get that, since the Captain doesn't seem to want my help."

"He'll come 'round," Thompson assured her before reaching across the table and taking the drink from her hand. He read the name and frowned.

"Monster? 'Helps fight fatigue, improves mental performance and focus, motivates you to work, I mean play, harder, so good you feel pretty damn good'? Dear god, that sounds awful."

"They're horrible for you," Kingston agreed.

"It's liquid Sweet Tarts," Emily stated, reaching for the can. Thompson leaned back in his chair and placed it in the trashcan. "Hey!"

"Sleep," he ordered. "You need your full mental facilities. And if you continue to push your body like this, you will be of absolutely not use to us."

"I'm fine, _Dad_," she pouted. Sure, she knew that she needed sleep, but now that she'd actually seen Captain Rogers awake, Emily felt the need to power through the rest of the information in those boxes.

"Young lady," Dr. Kingston leaned forward, folding his hands on the table and furrowing his white eyebrows, "if you do not return to your room and sleep, I will be forced to hospitalize you for exhaustion. I can already tell that you've not been eating," Emily wrapped her arms around her somewhat shrunken stomach, "and you haven't been taking care of yourself. As Chief Medical Officer, I'm ordering you to sleep. And eat something."

"God," Emily muttered. "Fine. I'll sleep. Goodnight…day…whatever." She stood up quickly and pushed the chair in before turning and exiting the room. The dramatic effect was lessened somewhat when her ankle rolled slightly, causing her to stumble. Blushing furiously, she continued to walk out, pausing to get her bearings, and then turning right.

"These kids," Kingston shook his head, "they all think they're invincible."

OOO

"I'm twenty-seven," Emily said to no one. "And they're treating me like I'm a kid." She had to stop again and figure out where she was. Groaning in frustration, she stomped her foot and leaned against the wall, pressing her fingers to her eyes. "It's right from the cafeteria, immediate left, three corridors up and left…"

Her hands dropped when she heard footsteps coming from behind her. As embarrassing as it would be, she needed help. "Excuse me," she called, looking down the hall to the right. The footsteps paused and Emily walked towards the person. "Could you-" she turned the corner. No one was there. "Alright, maybe you are hallucinating." Shaking her head, Emily walked back to where she had been and looked around.

"Dr. Harthorn?" Emily shrieked and jumped.

"Oh my god, you scared me," she said, pressing a hand to her racing heart. Coulson smiled. "Were you just…" Her eyes darted to the blonde man beside him.

"Dr. Harthorn," Rogers said.

"Hi," she squeaked. Em watched him for a moment before realizing she was staring.

"You were saying something?" Coulson prodded.

"What? Oh, nothing," Emily shook her head and gave him an embarrassed smile. "But I'm kind of lost."

"Office or room?" Coulson asked.

"Room," Emily's eyes shot to the silent Captain. "I've been threatened with forced hospitalization if I don't sleep." Rogers frowned and Coulson shook his head before motioning for her to precede him.

"Kingston is serious." The three walked in silence for a while, with Emily falling behind the two men.

"What are you a doctor of, Dr. Harthorn?" Captain Rogers asked.

"History," she replied, looking up from the floor. "World War II, specifically."

"Dr. Harthorn," Coulson said, stopping and motioning to a door. "This is you. Oh, and you left this." He pulled the discarded tie from his pocket.

"Thanks," she smirked, opening the door and tossing it into the room. "So I'll see you around, I guess."

"Doctor," Rogers nodded.

"Emily," she replied, reaching out to shake his hand. He smiled slightly and shook hers, his hand engulfing hers. The emotion didn't reach his eyes.

"Steve." Coulson's eyes darted between the two.

"Get some sleep, Doctor," he ordered. Emily gave him a mock salute.

"Yes, Agent Coulson. Thanks for the help," she said and stepped into her room, closing the door quietly. Emily took a deep breath, flicked on the light, and kicked off her shoes.

"OH MY GOD!" she mouthed, knees nearly giving out. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" She spun in a circle, hands covering her eyes. And tripped over her open suitcase. Sprawled across the floor, Emily shook her head. "Oh. My. God. I need to sleep."

OOO

"This is it," Coulson said, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. He pushed it open, turned on the light, and stepped back. Steve stepped in and looked around. The furniture was minimum: a twin bed, a dresser, a desk, bedside table, and…

"What's that?" Steve asked, pointing to the slim box on top of the dresser.

"A television," Coulson said, walking over and picking up the remote next to it.

"Really?" Steve said. "I saw one at the World Fair in '39, but it was nothing like this." Coulson looked at the younger (or was he older) man and smiled.

"Technology's gotten slimmer and smaller. Except televisions. The bigger the screen the better. Want me to show you how to work it?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** You didn't think I'd make it that easy, did you? So I hope you like how I wrote this. I've been agonizing over whether or not this fits with the story. Also, while I have gotten to the point of complete clumsiness when running on only a few hours of sleep, I haven't gotten to the point I've had Em get to. That being said, I have done the shoulder slam, desk hit while tripping over things in my room when running out the door to work (late).

So let me know what you think? And THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reviews and alerts =] It makes me so happy to open up my e-mail and see them all.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Dr. Emily Harthorn was not seen for two days. When Dr. Thompson and Dr. Kingston attempted to speak to her, she did not answer the door. Finally, the good doctors simply posted a sign on the door stating that she was not to be bothered. Rogers had been concerned upon seeing it for the first time, but he was assured that nothing was wrong.

Captain Rogers had taken to roaming the halls at night. It was calming, not having to deflect the astonished looks of the agents as they passed by. He had half expected agents to follow him around to ensure that he didn't make a run for it again.

It had been curiosity that had made him stay. And to be honest, Steve wasn't quite sure what his place in this new world was. There was little comfort in being in New York, his home, when it was nothing like what he remembered. As he strode down the halls, he pictured what he had seen in Time Squares. _Time Squares!_ It had changed so much. When he'd last seen it, billboards, rather than lights that had dominated the skyline.

Daunting. That's what all of this was. Who would have guessed that the world had changed so much in seventy years? Steve was the first to admit that he wasn't a genius like Howard, or even the most adaptable, like Bucky. How was he supposed to catch up?

They'd brought in Dr. Harthorn, _Emily_, to help him, he knew, but right now he wanted to go at it alone. Maybe retreating from the world wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe he could go and get a little place Up State and start over. A smile tugged at the corner of him mouth when he thought about the house he could build. Simple. None of this 'modern' stuff (although what he'd of it seemed to have touches of Howard's ideas). Just a little piece of the home, that's what he needed.

He got it when, on Saturday, his things arrived. The clothes, of course, had been too small, most of them from before the procedure. But it was a comfort to have them all the same. Agent Sitwell had been sure to go over the inventory with him. Everything was there, even his mother's diamond earrings. Whoever had cleared out his apartment had been very thorough.

The only thing that he was missing was his compass. Although Steve had known it wasn't likely to be recovered from the wreck, he'd hoped to see it there. Sitwell had assured him that they were combing through the items on board the Hydra plane, and if they found it, it would be returned to him.

"Thanks," Steve said, placing his hand on his old Army dress uniform. "I appreciate it."

OOO

When, finally, on Sunday morning, Emily woke up, it was only because her stomach was growling fiercely. She looked at her cell phone and put it back next to the pillow, closing her eyes again, but shooting up and looking at it again.

"What the hell?" she said, throwing off the blankets and sitting up. Still in disbelief, she scrolled through the missed calls, text messages, and finally checked the voice mail.

"Hi Emily, it's Mom. Just give me a call back when you can. I want to see how New York is! Love you, Honey." Emily smiled and erased it. "Honey, just wondering where you are. Haven't heard from you in a bit. Just give me a buzz. Love you." Shaking her head, she hit the seven button. "Em, Mom's freaking out. Give her a call." Her brother's message was short and to the point. "Emily Rose Harthorn, if you do not call me back I will call the police," her mother threatened. "I am giving you until noon on Sunday."

Shaking her head, Emily typed a quick text message to her mother, letting her know that she was indeed alive and that she'd be calling her shortly. The last call was informing her that her car had arrived and she could pick it up at any time. After chugging half a bottle of water from the mini fridge, Em jumped in the shower and brushed her teeth.

"Emily Rose," Mrs. Harthorn growled when her daughter finally called an hour later.

"Hi, Mom," Emily said, a bit of a tremor in her voice. "What's up?"

"'What's up?' 'What's up?' You move to a new city and don't even bother to check in for a week?"

"Sorry Mom, I've been kind of busy," she sighed, walking from her room and snapping the door shut. Her eyes scanned the note taped to her door and she rolled her eyes before tearing it down and tossing the paper into the room. Once the door was locked, she slipped the key back into her jeans and walked down her hallway, her Chuck Taylor clad feet barely making a sound.

"You could have died for all I knew!"

"I did die, Mom, and I'm calling you from beyond the grave," Emily chuckled. "You don't have to be so dramatic. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." There was silence at the other end. "I love you," she said, her voice wheedling.

"I guess I don't have to drive down there to file a missing persons report," was all her mother said. Emily couldn't help but laugh. It died, however, when she saw Captain Steven G. Rogers turn the corner. Her mouth dropped open and she stopped mid-step. Em could hear her mother talking, but couldn't understand what she was saying. Steve smiled and walked towards her.

"Hey Mom, I've gotta go. I'll call you back later."

"Em-" the phone disconnected. She slipped the phone in her pocket and pinched her thigh, flinching slightly.

"You're alive," Steve said. Emily forced herself to close her mouth and smiled.

"Uh, yeah. Kinda went comatose there for a bit, but I guess this isn't a dream," she motioned to the walls.

"You sure? Kind of feels like one to me," he smirked. Em laughed nervously.

"I can only imagine. How's your first- I mean, are you finding it- I mean…" she finished lamely, running a hand through her damp tresses. "This has got to be strange."

"That's one word for it," he nodded, shifting his weigh. Em glanced at the bag in his hand and frowned.

"Are you leaving?" He followed her gaze and shook his head.

"Agent Coulson is going to show me a gym I can go to. I tried the one here…a bit too fancy for my taste."

"Oh," she said, nodding as though she knew what he was talking about. In all honesty, she hadn't even known there was a gym on the premises. She was about to say something when her stomach growled loudly. Blushing, she pressed a hand to it and laughed embarrassingly. "I'm going to…go get breakfast," she said.

"I'd go see Dr. Thompson, as well. He was worried about you," said the Captain.

"Will do. Enjoy the gym." Steve nodded, raising his hand in farewell, before they split off at the next corridor.

Captain Rogers glanced back over his shoulder and shook his head, watching as the young doctor walked away. He knew that they wanted him to talk to her, but he'd never been good at talking to dames.

"Ready?" Coulson asked as Steve walked towards him. Steve nodded, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. The two entered the parking garage, moving towards the fleet of black sedans. One's lights flashed when the agent pressed a button on the car key. Steve raised his eyebrows and shook his head; another technological advance.

OOO

Once Emily had set up a ride to retrieve her car and some boxes from the storage company the following day, she decided to leave HQ and explore the city. It had been days, after all, since she'd seen the sun. Although she had never been told not to leave the premises, it felt oddly like sneaking out when she left.

New York was just as Em remembered it: loud, busy, and crowded. She had to dodge people rushing about their business and, rather out of practice with the city life, she found herself being passed by those behind her quite frequently. Somewhat paranoid, Emily gripped the strap of her messenger bag tightly as she looked around.

It took approximately two minutes to locate what she was looking for: Starbucks. It took another ten minutes to place her order, and a few more to locate an empty chair. Her eyes bulged when she saw the 89 e-mails in her inbox, but it became more manageable when the spam was weeded out. There were a few nasty e-mails from students who were dissatisfied with their grades, another stating that the student she'd reported for plagiarism had been found guilty and was being reprimanded, another from Dr. Collins checking in with her, five more offering graduation pictures that she looked horrible in, and then one from Dave. Emily hesitated before opening it but eventually she did.

He wanted to talk about what had happened. He was sorry about how he acted, and would she please call him. They should meet for dinner at the Denver conference.

The Denver conference!

"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered, pulling the day planner from her bag and flipping to May. There, circled and starred, was the deadline for the conference paper submissions. Em had already sent in her paper abstract and been accepted to talk about the World War II propaganda, with specific emphasis on the Captain America project. Groaning, she put the planner away, contemplating how much more work she had left to do. That's when she saw the man watching her. When she caught his eye, he quickly looked away.

Quickly, she put the computer away and picked up her coffee, slinging the bag across shoulder and standing. He didn't look up from his paper, but she saw him shift slightly. Taking a deep breath, Emily walked to the door and pushed it open, forcing herself not to look back to see if he was following. When she'd walked a few blocks away, she caught sight of him in a store window. Her hand slipped into the bag and closed around a small canister of pepper spray as she dodged into a store. A quick look around showed that it was an older bookstore.

"Can I help you?" the proprietor asked.

"No, fine thanks," Emily said, darting down the first aisle and taking an immediate left. She had lucked out with this store: like many of the best, it was full of random twists and turns created by piles of books. On any other occasion, she would have loved to explore, but now she was just wondering who the guy following her was. The bell sounded again as the door was open.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

"No," the man replied. Emily crouched down behind one of the piles as he prowled around.

"Shit," she said to herself. Yes, this had seemed like a good idea at the time, but what if he stayed up there? She'd be trapped. Unfortunately, he seemed to think along that line and placed his hands behind his back, rocking on his toes and looking rather smug.

OOO

Coulson removed his cell phone from his pocket and frowned. "Excuse me for a moment," he said. Steve looked at the shorter man and nodded before wandering over towards the boxing ring. "Yes?" he demanded upon answering.

"Sir, Dr. Harthorn has left without authorization." Coulson huffed, running a hand across his face.

"Do you have eyes on her?"

"We have an agent tailing her-"

"Call him off."

"Sir?"

"Dr. Harthorn is not required to stay on site at all times. Call off the agent."

"Yes sir. And sir?"

"What is it?"

"We have an updated report from Dr. Foster that might require your attention."

"I'll see to it when I get back." Shaking his head, the agent hung up the phone and walked back towards where Captain Rogers was staring off into space.

Coulson had been thrilled (not that he'd shown it) when they'd found his childhood hero. He'd asked Fury if he could stay back and help with Roger's transition, but the Director had insisted that he and Sitwell deal with the Blonsky/World Council issue.

"Everything alright?" Rogers asked.

"Fine," Coulson answered. "We've acquired this building recently. Tech will be putting new locks on the doors, but you're free to come here as often as you'd like. We can have a driver assigned to you-"

"That's not necessary."

"-Until we get your license renewed," Coulson finished. "If you'd like anything brought in from the other gym, we can arrange it."

Rogers shook his head, looking around the old gym. There were pictures of people he didn't know on the walls and he pointed to one. "Whose that?"

"Muhammad Ali, one of the greatest boxers of all time. He's the only three time World Heavyweight Champion." Steve nodded and turned away, walking towards the punching bag. He gently pushed it, listening to the metal chain creak.

"There's hand wraps in the office," stated Coulson, pointing towards the dark room.

"You box?" Rogers asked.

"A little." The Captain smiled and motioned to the bag. Although he sorely wanted to, Coulson shook his head. "I have to get back. I'm going out of town tonight and need to see to a few things. If you need anything, Dr. Harthorn will know how to get in touch with me. Did you want me to send someone to get you in a few hours?"

"That'd be great," Steve said, walking back towards the agent. He held out his hand, "Travel safe."

"I will," Coulson smiled, shaking his hero's hand.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, yes, there isn't a lot of Emily and Steve together in this chapter, but hey, it happens. But anyways, I've included a mention of the Blonsky/World Council issue. It was addressed during "The Consultant", the one-shot from Marvel, and the after-credit scene from The Incredible Hulk. For those of you who don't know it, I highly suggest watching it on YouTube and reading the Wikipedia page on Marvel one-shots.

Also, I love how Coulson is a "fan-boy" as my friend says and always imagined that he would be all about hanging out with Rogers. However, as Fury's "one good eye" he has a lot to do for S.H.I.E.L.D. so he can't be the main person helping him. The chapter mentions his involvement with Dr. Foster and (in a round about way) Dr. Banner. SOOO, it should come as no surprise that the other Avengers will show up at some point during this story.

As for Emily, I do want to say that she's not always so wrapped up in work (which you will see later). At the moment, though, she is attempting to juggle ending her university career, a new job, a move, and keeping her family in the dark about the new job, all while trying to come to terms with a new reality. So yeah, just making excuses for my OC. As always, let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Emily had been trapped in the bookstore for ten minutes before the man simply turned and walked out. Not trusting it, she'd remained hiding for another ten minutes before she'd walked outside, keeping an eye peeled for anyone following her. Finally satisfied that she was in fact alone, Emily had gone to Central Park to work on her paper for Denver and to reflect on the past week.

It was absolutely crazy, Emily thought as she set the computer down a while later and reclined in the grass. Captain Rogers, a handsome (and there was no denying that), genetically enhanced soldier from World War II had been frozen in time until present day. She, Emily Rose Harthorn, a nobody from Massachusetts who had a pension for history, had been chosen to be his guide to the 21st century? This was the stuff of fiction! And oddly enough, this was her new reality.

At 2 o'clock, Emily packed up her things and headed back to S.H.I.E.L.D., stopping only to grab a sandwich at a deli on the way. Her mother had grilled her on what had been going on in New York, but she'd evaded most of the questions, lying that she was settling into the NYU campus very well and was loving her new faculty position.

Later that night, she was sorting out her clothes and hanging them up in the closet when there was a knock on her door. Emily, however, didn't hear it as she was listening to her iPod and dancing around. Agent Coulson opened the door and walked towards her before tapping her on the shoulder.

"What the hell?" Emily gasped, whipping around and yanking the ear bud from her ear. She pressed a hand to her racing heart and gulped down a breath.

"I knocked," he stated. Taking another breath, Emily sank into the now empty desk chair.

"What's up?"

"Just coming to let you know that I'm leaving for a while."

"Mind if I ask where you're going?"

"Mount Athena." Emily raised her eyebrows.

"I expected you to say 'That's classified'. Isn't there some sort of research facility up there?" The corner of Coulson's lip twitched. While Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. public knowledge, it was not common knowledge that NASA and S.H.I.E.L.D. had joined forces to experiment on the Tesseract there.

"Yes. If you need anything, you have my cell number. Agent Sitwell will be coming with me as well."

"Ok," Emily replied, adjusting her shirt. It was one of her most comfortable: a maroon and white shirt from her undergraduate university that she'd cut the neck out of.

"Also, I would like to apologize for the agent following you today. I have informed security that you are not to be followed or detained."

"Thanks," she smirked. Coulson nodded. "So who would I talk to about time off?

"I'm sorry?" Coulson asked.

"There's a conference in Denver that I need to go to in June. Who would I talk to about that?"

"I'll handle it," he replied. "I can't make any guarantees, however." Emily raised an eyebrow.

"What, will I need to have you guys approve the paper before hand?"

"Possibly. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Ok," Emily sighed. "Well, have a safe trip."

"I will, thank you. Good night."

"Night," she said, walking him to the door. Emily stood in the doorway for another moment before returning to unpacking. It wasn't long, however, until someone else knocked on the door.

OOO

Steve had been at the gym for three hours when the agent had shown up to bring him back. In that time, he'd explored the building and had broken two punching bags open.

The ride back to S.H.I.E.L.D. had been uncomfortable. The agent, a young woman, had asked him a stream of questions, barely pausing for him to answer them. When she wasn't talking to him, she was cursing the other drivers under her breath, or running her fingers through her hair. When they'd gotten back to S.H.I.E.L.D., she had hinted heavily that she'd wanted him to ask her to dinner. As gently as possible, he had shaken her off and gone back to his room.

"Dames," he muttered under his breath as he toweled his hair. Steve changed into the khaki and plaid shirt that had been put in his dresser, and left for the cafeteria. He'd planned on getting something quickly before going back to his room, as it was uncomfortable to see everyone looking at him. His plans, however, were interrupted when he saw the female agent walking down the hall, smiling broadly at him. Steve looked to the left and saw his chance.

Dr. Harthorn answered her door relatively quickly, white wires dangling from her neck. "Hi," she said, leaning against the door jam. She looked somewhat confused. "What's up?"

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the question. "What?" She shook her head, causing a few strands of hair to fall from the ponytail and drift to her bare shoulders.

"What can I do for you?" Steve felt the agent walk behind him and chanced a glance. She was glaring at him, and he looked back at Dr. Harthorn to see her looking at the agent as well. She cocked an eyebrow, smiled, and crossed her arms across her chest. His blue eyes widened slightly.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me? If you're not busy, I mean," he added quickly. Emily looked down the hall again and saw the agent sashay out of sight.

"You're safe, Captain, she's gone." She smiled again, seeing the slight reddening of his face.

"Dinner?" he asked again. Emily glanced at her watch and stood up.

"I've got a Skype date with my niece in half an hour, but I can go grab something with you." She threw the door a little wider and motioned for him to come in. "Just let me throw some jeans on." She grabbed the discarded pair from where she'd thrown them on the desk chair and walked to the bathroom. Steve stood in the doorway, looking around her small quarters.

They were very much like his own, but she'd piled a few things on the desk. "What's Skype?" he asked. Emily, who had left the door slightly ajar,pulled it open a little and peeked out.

"It's a video chat program," she said before disappearing again.

"A what?" The door was kicked open and Emily reappeared, buckling the black belt around her hips.

"Here," she said, walking over to the desk and opening the laptop. "So, it's kind of like making a telephone call, except you do it through this. Right here," she pointed to a small black square, "is a camera, which transmits the picture across the Internet, so that I can see her, and she can see me."

"Oh," he said. Emily turned in the chair and was surprised to see how close he was leaning. He seemed to realize it as well and stood up. "And the Internet is?" Laughing, Emily stood up and swiped the phone from her bed and grabbed her keys.

"That's a much longer answer that I'm not entirely sure about," she answered as they stepped into the hallway. "Let's just say that it's the 'information super-highway' that connects all computers and makes research so much easier." Steve frowned, confusion evident on his face, but he shrugged. They walked down the hall together, falling into step with one another.

"Where are you from?" Steve asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Massachusetts, near Gloucester. Hence the accent," she smirked.

"I was wondering about that," he smiled.

"I've gotten rid of most of it," Emily stated, "mostly because my Southern students had trouble understanding a New England accent, but it comes back with full force when I'm back home. Which can be wicked awesome." She glanced over and winked. Her students had always teased her about that, so she'd dropped 'wicked' from her vocabulary and absolutely refused to say 'I'm gonna go park the car', except when very drunk. "You're from here?"

"Brooklyn," he nodded. As an agent passed them, Emily noticed his open mouthed gaze at Steve and raised an eyebrow. The agent collected himself and hurried on his way. "Born and raised." He seemed to ignore the entire incident.

"That happen often?" she asked, pointing over her shoulder.

"Yes," he jerked a nod and looked down at her. "I'm the sideshow circus freak here."

"No," she said, stopping mid-step and placing a hand on his arm, which caused him to stop. "Everyone's just astonished that you're alive." Steve looked at her hand, making Emily drop it quickly. "It's a freaking miracle that you are."

"Not a miracle," he said, his eyes darkening. Emily sighed and began walking again, muttering 'I beg to differ' under her breath. Ignoring the statement, he stated. "Just the serum."

"I've got some questions about that, if you don't mind. I'm trying to get through Dr. Erskine's notes, but a lot of them are missing and I don't have my German dictionary yet."

"You speak German?" Steve asked.

"I read it," she shrugged. "My grandmother and biological grandfather were German, but when he died she married a French Canadian, so I speak French fluently. Grandpa Charlie was very adamant that all of his family members speak the language," Emily smiled.

"I don't know how much use I'll be with Dr. Erskine's notes," Steve said as they walked into the cafeteria.

"Even if you could just explain the procedure, that'd be helpful. I'm coming across words that I'm not entirely sure exist, or I've translated them horribly."

"Such as?" he asked.

"Vita-rays," Emily sighed, grabbing a salad. "I keep coming across it but I've never heard them before."

"They exist," Steve nodded. "You're not translating it wrong." Emily face brightened as she put a bottle of water on her tray.

"Great! Maybe I can finish the journal tonight. After talking to Jessica, of course."

"Your niece?" Steve waited as Emily handed over a few bills to the cashier, who was staring shamelessly at him. He flushed under her gaze.

"It's rude to stare," Emily stated, slipping the change back into her pocket. The cashier glared at her and quickly cashed out Steve. As they walked away, Emily smirked when she heard her mutter 'bitch'. "Some people don't have manners. And yes, Jessica is my niece."

Steve was finding it odd how easily he could talk to Emily. Something about her just put him at ease. Maybe it was because she was trying to figure out her role in all of this as well.

"-woes of a sixteen year old," she was saying. Steve shook his head, realizing that he hadn't been listening to her.

"What?" he asked. She smiled and shook her head. Her brown eyes studied him.

"Have you been sleeping?"

"I think I've had my fill."

"You should try," Emily sighed.

"You too," he smiled. She narrowed her eyes before tucking the water under her arm and holding out her hand.

"Deal. We both sleep tonight, then get back to work tomorrow."

"Okay," Steve said, shaking her hand. He was surprised by how firm her handshake was.

"Good night, then, Steve."

"Good night, Emily." Em smiled and unlocked her door.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, yes, a fluff chapter, but it's actually setting up the next few. And a lot of people have been asking for more Em/Steve interaction, so here you go!

Now about Project P.E.G.U.S.E.S. (the **P**otential **E**nergy **G**roup/**A**lternate **S**ources/**U**nited **S**tates). Well, when I watched the movie, I was under the impression that it was located somewhere in the desert, possibly Nevada or New Mexico. When I looked it up, however, I found out that in the comics it is established in Mount Athena. The writers had it located in the Adirondack Mountains in New York. So I'm going to go with that.

As always, thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"Captain Rogers," Dr. Thompson boomed when his office door opened. "How nice to see how. How was your weekend?"

"Interesting," Steve replied, shaking the doctor's hand.

"I'm sure it was," Thompson smiled, motioning to the couch on the opposite side of his office. Steve looked at it, and then back at Thompson. "You needn't lie down. I just need to finish this report."

Steve nodded and took a seat, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. His blue eyes shot around the room, taking in the bookshelves crammed with books, the framed degrees, and the few pictures. The desk was crowded with papers, and Thompson was typing away at the _computer_ (if he recalled correctly).

"There," the psychologist said, hitting the last key with a flourish and pushing away the desk. "Would you like anything to drink? I've water, soda, and, if you'd like something a little stronger, some aged brandy."

"Water's fine," Steve smiled. Thompson nodded.

"You don't mind if…" he motioned to the brandy.

"Of course not."

"Wonderful. My wife, bless her, had me working around the house all damned weekend." He poured himself a glass of the amber liquid and sat in the wing-backed chair opposite Steve, leaning forward to hand him the bottle of water.

"Thanks. So you're married?"

The doctor nodded and reached back on his desk, turning one of the pictures so it faced them, "Fourty-eight wonderful years." Steve nodded.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. Now, enough about me. You said you found your weekend interesting. Anything newsworthy?"

"Just," he seemed to struggle to find a way to explain it.

"Everything?" Thompson supplied.

"Everything," Steve agreed.

"I'm sure it is overwhelming, but you're handling all of this remarkably well. Were I in your position, I'm sure I would hide under my desk and refuse to come out."

"Don't think the thought hasn't occurred," he shrugged.

"I'm not quite sure you would fit under the desk." The deadpan delivery of the joke made Steve laugh. Thompson chuckled and sipped his drink. "So have, you gone out exploring the city yet?"

"No."

"No?" Thompson sat up straighter. "Why not?"

"I don't know if I'll like what I see," Steve replied, looking down at the ground.

"Well, you'll never know if you don't go, will you? I'm sure you'll find something that you like."

"Actually," Steve paused and squeezed the water bottle tightly.

"Yes?"

"The Stork Club. That's the only place I'd be interested in going."

"Ah," Dr. Thompson said. Steve looked up and caught the sad expression on the doctor's face. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. You see, the Stork Club was closed in the 60's. I believe that's where Paley Park was built."

Steve had to set the bottle on the ground before he squeezed it too tightly. His hands gripped his knees, his fingernails digging into his pinstriped pants. His eyes felt hot and he swallowed hard.

"Does the Stork Club have anything to do with the date that you mentioned to Director Fury?" Dr. Thompson was leaning forward, trying to meet his eyes, but Steve was staring hard at the carpet, trying to master himself. The silence was deafening. "We can discuss it later. Have you been having difficulty sleeping?"

"I've had my fill," he grunted, the corner of his lip twitching as he repeated what he'd told Emily.

"I can have Dr. Kingston prescribe you something if you'd think it would help. You really do need to sleep, Captain."

The night before, Steve really had tried to sleep. But when the clock had showed four o'clock and he still hadn't drifted off, he'd gotten up and started to roam the halls. It had been a surprise seeing Emily doing the same. "Busted," she'd laughed, holding up the journal.

OOO

"_I guess we're both untrustworthy," she smirked._

"_I guess so," Steve laughed. Emily pulled her cardigan closer to her body and shook her head, causing her glasses to slide down her nose a bit._

"_What brings you to…wherever we are," she glanced around and realized that she'd wandered the wrong way. _

"_Couldn't sleep." He watched as she pursed her lips and crossed her arms. _

"_How long has it been since you've slept?"_

"_Not quite sure," he replied. Emily huffed and leaned against the wall. _

"_That's really not good. Is there something keeping you awake?" Steve didn't want to say nightmares, he really didn't. It wasn't the sort of weakness you admitted to pretty dames. Even without saying anything, she seemed to realize what he was thinking. "Dreams?"_

"_I slept for 70 years," he said hurriedly. "A few days without won't hurt." She shook her head._

"_Look, I know that stuff like that was stigmatized before but it's not now. PTSD-"_

"_What's that?" _

"_Wait," she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. After a moment, her eyes shot open and she snapped while saying, "Combat fatigue. It's treatable now. And if you're having problems, there's nothing wrong with talking about them. Hell, I'm shocked that you're even standing right now."_

"_I'm fine," he assured her. "Are you working on Erskine's notes?" Emily narrowed her eyes but allowed him to change the subject._

"_Yeah. I've got most of it translated but, since you're awake, would you mind walking me through the procedure? If it's not too much to ask."_

"_No, it's fine." They'd gone to the cafeteria and had coffee. Around five-thirty, he walked her back to her room and said goodnight before continuing his nightly walk._

OOO

"I don't even know if anything would work," he admitted, picking up the bottle again and taking a deep drink.

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about your metabolism," Dr. Thompson nodded. "Well, we can always try. How have you found Dr. Harthorn?"

"Emily?" Something about that made the psychologist smile again. "She seems like a nice dame – woman, sorry."

"No need to apologize," he waved it off. "Differences in word usage are to be expected." Leaning forward conspiratorially, the psychologist grinned, "Shall we set the good doctor to a project for you?"

"I think she's busy going to through all the material the Director gave her."

"Yes, yes," he again waved off the comment, "but I'm sure if you asked her for this favor, she would do it."

"What favor?"

"Haven't you been wondering what's become of your comrades in arms?" Steve's eyebrows shot up.

"You think she could find them?"

"I've found that you should never underestimate the determination of a historian. A good friend of mine, for instance, travelled all the way to Russia to find the original passage of an obscure author's work. Poor man nearly went mad with happiness when he found it." Unable to help himself, Steve smiled. "Shall we go ask Dr. Harthorn?" Rather than answer, Steve stood up, swiftly followed by Dr. Thompson.

"Your rather lucky to have her, by the way."

"What to you mean?"

"Director Fury was leaning heavily towards an older chap, someone from California, I believe. Agent Coulson managed to talk him out of it when Dr. Harthorn was brought to his attention. And, with her connections, it was an obvious choice, although the Director is less than keen about her."

"Her connections?" Steve asked as they rounded the corner to the conference room Emily spent most of her time in.

"Goodness, you don't know? Well, come to think of it," the psychologist paused and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not entirely sure she knows. She should have come across-" He knocked on the door and pushed it open without waiting for her to answer.

Steve froze.

OOO

It had been a long morning. Emily had tossed and turned when she'd gotten back to her room, finally falling asleep at six o'clock. When the phone alarm went off two-hours later, it was swiftly shut off and swept to the floor. Once she'd gotten her car back, it had taken nearly an hour to locate the boxes she wanted from the storage unit. In the haste of moving, the Harthorns hadn't labeled the boxes. Finally, having found what she wanted, Emily made it back to S.H.I.E.L.D. at eleven o'clock.

The boxes had been dumped unceremoniously in her room and she'd withdrawn a few folders and binders of research, but left the textbooks and lesson plans where they were. Having accomplished two major goals of the day, she'd gone about the third: cleaning up the conference room. The clutter was getting to be horrible, whether it be empty soda/water bottles, balled up papers, or the disorganized stacks of folders.

Emily withdrew a disk from the last box she was emptying and frowned. It didn't have anything written on it, unlike everything else that had been meticulously labeled. Curious, she walked over to her laptop and inserted it. A single audio file was all of the contents. After retrieving her headphones, she double clicked, pressing the small pieces of plastic tightly against her ears.

At first, there was just radio static, and then...

"_Come in, this is Captain Rogers, do you read me?" _Emily frowned, increasing the volume.

"_Captain Rogers," _another male voice answered,_ "what is your-"_

"_Steve? Is that you? Are you all right?"_ a woman interjected.

"_Peggy!" _Steve said_, "Schmidt's dead."_

"_What about the plane?"_ There was a long pause.

"_That's a little bit tougher to explain."_

"_Give me your coordinates, I'll find you a safe landing site."_

"_It's not going to be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down." _Emily clapped a hand to her mouth, finally realizing what this recording was.

"_I-I'll get Howard on the line, he'll know what to do."_ Panic was in the woman's voice.

"_There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York."_ Another long pause. "_I gotta put her in the water."_

"_Please, don't do this, we have time, we can work it out,"_ the woman pleaded.

"_Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die." _The next pause was so long that she thought the recording had ended, but then she heard Steve speak again. "_Peggy, this is my choice. Peggy?"_

"_I'm here,"_ her voice was thick with emotion.

"_I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."_

"_All right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."_

"_You've got it."_

"_Eight o'clock, on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"_ Emily was felt her eyes burn as she stared blankly at the screen. When someone knocked on the conference room door, she jumped. Before she could pause the recording, Dr. Thompson pushed the door open, talking over his shoulder to Steve. Emily leapt to her feet, accidently pulling the headphones from the computer.

"_You know, I still don't know how to dance."_ Emily froze, as did Steve.

"_I'll show you how. Just be there."_

"_We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your-"_ Static.

"_Steve? Steve?" _a breathy sob echoed through the silent room. _"Steve?"_ Dr. Thompson looked from his patient to the white faced Dr. Harthorn, then at the computer.

"Erm," he said awkwardly, "I'm sorry for intruding. Are you busy at the moment?"

"W-what?" Emily cleared her throat and pulled the headphones from her ears. "N-no. What can I do for you?" She could not look at the Captain, but she could feel the coldness emanating from him.

Before Dr. Thompson could reply, Steve turned and left the room. Emily collapsed back into the chair and put her head in her hands. "Oh god," she groaned, swiping at two rogue tears that were zigzagging down her cheeks.

"What that what I believe it was?" Dr. Thompson asked.

"I think it was," she breathed.

"Dear lord," the older man huffed. "This is not good."

"You think?" she snapped. After a moment, she said, "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

"Not only yours. I believe we've just hit him with the figurative 'one-two punch'."

"What?"

"I'll explain later. Doctor, you need to find him and apologize if your job is to be salvaged. This might cause him to reject you entirely."

"I'm not going to apologize because of a fucking job," she sighed, sitting up and pressing the eject button on the computer. "I really feel horrible." When the disk was replaced in its container, she stood up and strode from the room. "Any idea where he'd have gone?"

"More than likely to the gymnasium. He seems to find solace in physical exertion," Dr. Thompson said. "I'll wait here for you, shall I?" Emily nodded and walked towards her room. She knew that he wouldn't want to use the facilities here, but would find a way to the older one.

"Steve," she cried when she finally caught up with him. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders were tense, but he stopped walking. As she jogged to catch up she saw his fists clench. "Look, I'm really-"

"That was private," he said. Anger and hurt saturated every word.

"I didn't know what it was. It wasn't labeled. I am so sorry." He didn't say anything. "Here." Emily held out the disk. He hesitated for a moment before turning around. Emily met his gaze for a moment before looking away. Not before seeing the gleam of tears there.

"Thank you," he grunted before continuing on his way. Emily watched him go before turning and kicking the wall.

"FUCK!" she groaned. Heavy-hearted, she turned and went back to where Dr. Thompson was waiting.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Holy crap, guys! I honestly hadn't planned on putting this out until Thursday/Friday/Saturday, but when I got home from work and saw that I'd had 1.44K hits, I just couldn't resist. So first and foremost THANK YOU! I've never had that many hits on anything I've written, and it really made my crappy Monday better.

Second, please don't be angry with me for the content of this chapter! As I've said before, I'm not making this easy for Steve and Emily. Thanks to those of you who have messaged/reviewed that this is preferable because I'm not huge fan on whirlwind romances. And to be completely honest, I don't see Steve forgetting about Peggy in any way, shape, or form post-Captain America. So yes, there is my explanation.

Again, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for reading and making my sleepness nights, endless hours day dreaming, and agony over the chapters worth it. I hope you've enjoyed this and let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Steve had noticed him very soon after leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. And the agent tailing him wasn't entirely unexpected. He hadn't told anyone that he was leaving. What was surprising was that no one tried to stop him.

With hands thrust deep in his leather jacket's pockets, Captain Rogers walked the streets of Manhattan, feet hitting the pavement that had at one time been so familiar. He didn't look around at the changes, instead focused firmly on the past. There were moments when he paused, sure that he had taken a wrong turn somewhere, but soon sorted himself out. While the buildings may have changed, the roads at least stayed the same.

It came as a bit of a shock when he finally arrived. Steve stood still and looked into the enclosed area, picturing when there had been a building and people would wait to enter the famed halls. Now ivy hung on the walls, trees grew, and the loud thundering of a fountain blocked out the city sounds. Taking a deep breath, Steve stepped into the park and walked over to an empty table, turning to face the fountain. He closed his eyes, imagining that the band was playing. As if to torture him more, his mind landed on "I'll Be Seeing You".

Steve leaned forward, folded his hands, and bowed his head. Peggy was walking towards him in that red dress, a smile on her lips. _"You're late."_

His hand reached up and quickly wiped away the tears that escaped.

OOO

Emily sat at the conference table, staring blankly at the wall, and sliding her locket along the chain. Dr. Thompson had stayed for a while and discussed what had happened, but it didn't assuage her guilt. Were the situation reversed, she knew that she would have reacted in the same way.

Had she been given the option, Emily didn't think that she could have born listening to Garrett's last moments. To hear him having a normal conversation, unaware that his life was soon to be over, and then that horrible silence…Emily shuddered at the thought.

"_Be careful, okay?" _

"_Don't worry, babe, you're not going to get rid of me that easily," he grinned. "I've got something for you." Emily shook her head and forced herself to smile. Garrett reached into the pocket of his fatigues and pulled out a small box. "Just something for you while I'm gone." He opened it and removed a locket. Emily reached for the charm and opened it, reading the inscription on the left panel. _

"_I am yours, no matter how far." Fighting back tears, she turned and let him put it on her. His emerald eyes bore into hers when they met again._

"_I'll see you soon," he promised, resting is forehead on hers. Emily wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his black hair._

"_You better." Garrett smiled and held her tightly before pressing his lips to hers. _

"_I've gotta go now." Emily nodded, taking a shuddering breath. "Hey, no tears." He reached up and brushed them away. With one last kiss, they broke apart and he walked towards the security checkpoint. When he'd passed it, he turned and waved. Emily blew him a kiss, which he caught and pressed to his heart._

With a heavy sigh, Emily wiped away a tear and pressed the locket to her lips. Shaking hands drew the laptop towards her, and she began her search.

OOO

For the next three days, whenever Emily and Steve saw one another, they avoided each other's gaze. Steve spent most of his time at the older gym, while she worked in the conference room. Both had noted that the other looked like hell.

Emily had made another trip to her storage locker and retrieved two items: an old Army sweater and a copy of her dissertation. She'd taken to wearing the sweater around, lifting the neck to smell when she was feeling particularly upset, and wishing that it still had his scent.

"Merci beaucoup," she said, pressing the disconnect button on the phone. Sighing, she walked over to a whiteboard and scribbled a date on it. She had just turned to make another call when the intercom sounded.

"Dr. Harthorn?"

"Yes?"

"General Sanders is due to arrive within the hour." Emily furrowed her eyebrows.

"General Sanders?"

"Yes. He's here to discuss Captain Rogers with you."

"With me?" The man paused.

"Director Fury was supposed to meet with him, but as he's still gone…" She pressed a hand to her eyes and emitted a low groan. The last thing she wanted to do was handle a general at the moment.

"Is there any way he can reschedule with the Director?"

"He's flown in from DC, ma'am. He's adamant that the meeting happen."

"Fine, I'll meet with him." Within a few minutes, she had finished jotting down a few notes and was walking back to her room. A quick shower and shave were necessary, as was make-up, Emily noted when she saw the dark circles under her eyes. An hour later, she was dressed in a light grey pencil skirt, teal button-up shirt, black pumps, and make up done. Unsure of where they were supposed to meet, she went two floors up and waited in the building's foyer. It turned out to be a good guess.

General Sanders strode in, confidences rolling off of him in waves. A younger soldier walked behind him carrying a briefcase. The General scanned the area before his brown eyes settled on her. "Dr. Harthorn?"

"General," she replied, walking forward and reaching to shake his outstretched hand.

"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice, Ma'am. Director Fury seems to have forgotten about our little meeting."

"It's my pleasure," she lied.

"So, where is he?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Not here, actually." She'd checked with the front desk agent. "But I'd be more than happy to bring you up to speed-"

"My driver will take us wherever we need to go," he interrupted.

"I'm not quite sure-"

"It's fine, Doctor. I didn't fly all the way up here for just a chat with Fury. I want to see him." The gleam in the General's eyes made Emily uneasy. But, unable to see a way of dissuading him, she told the desk agent where they were going and followed Sanders out. She gave the younger man the address to the gym and slid into the back of the black sedan.

"How is the transition going?" General Sanders asked as the car pulled away from the curb.

"Honestly," Emily sighed, turning to face the older man, "slowly. Captain Rogers is refusing assistance and is muddling through on his own." The General nodded, running a hand through his clipped salt and pepper hair.

"It's my understanding that you were brought into help him."

"I was," she nodded.

"May I ask what you've been doing while he's been 'muddling though'?" Emily blushed at the implied slight.

"I've been trying to find a way to get him to open up," she stated, "and compiling lists of what historical topics we would cover."

"History? What about modern technology?"

"Of course." General Sanders nodded and looked out of the window as the city sped by.

"The military has a vested interest in getting Captain Rogers in fighting form. The Department of Defense would like to see him on the front lines again."

"What?" Emily gasped, her hand clenching the locket tightly.

"He's a soldier, Dr. Harthorn," the General stated. "We need good soldiers overseas."

"Sir, I don't know if that's the best decision-"

"It's coming from up high, Doctor. I'm just here to see if he would able." Emily pressed her lips into a tight line, trying to keep the words she dearly wanted to say from escaping. He seemed to realize this and turned to face her. "Yes, Dr. Harthorn?"

"I just don't think that sending yet another soldier over _there_ is the best idea."

"Yes," he nodded, his eyes meeting hers, "I know all about your sentiments with the War. And about your personal sacrifice." Emily blanched, shifting away from him even more. "And, between you and me, I agree. My son lost his leg over there, Ma'am. But I'm just doing my job understand? I don't make the policy." They passed the rest of the ride in silence.

When the driver pulled up to the older gym, Emily reached for the door handle, but it was opened for her. "Thanks," she said quickly. The General strode around the car, hat once again on his head, and motioned for her to proceed. "Captain Rogers has been spending most of his time here," she said, swiping her S.H.I.E.L.D. ID card on the newly installed security panel. There was a buzz as the door unlocked.

"Run down, isn't it?" The General said, removing his hat and tucking it under his arm as they stepped inside the cool building. The stale smell of sweat and mold clung to the air, and paint was peeling from the walls.

"A bit," she sighed. "But from what I've been told, it's in good shape." Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as they followed the 'thuds'. Captain Rogers was standing at a punching bag, sweat dripping from his face, huffing as he hit the bag again and again. In a sudden burst of energy, he hit harder, his fists nearly blurs as he pulled back, landing a hard one at the very center. Emily gasped as it flew across the room, hitting the wall with a sickening 'thud' before sand began leaking out of the bottom.

"Impressive," General Sanders said, stepping away from where Emily and his assistant stood. "Very impressive." Captain Rogers turned to face them before snapping to attention.

"Sir," he said quickly, saluting the General.

"At ease," the General said. "You pack a hell of a punch, son."

"Yes, Sir," Captain Rogers nodded. Emily looked from the bag to the younger man again before stepping forward, clearing her throat as she walked.

"Captain Rogers, this is General Sanders. He's just come in from Washington to see you." He regarded Emily for a moment before turning to face the General again.

"General Phillips didn't lie about you, did he?" an almost greedy look crossed the General's face as he passed a critical eye over the Captain.

"General Phillips?" Rogers asked.

"He was with you from the beginning, son," the General looked at Emily as if to ask if the Captain's brain had been affected.

"After the War, Colonel Phillips rose to a four-star general," she stated, crossing her arms under he chest.

"No kidding," Rogers smiled.

"He was my advisor at West Point," the General nodded. "Spoke very highly of you." Rogers chuckled and crossed his arms, looking at the ground.

"A four-star general," he said under his breath. "Where is he now?"

"He died about eight years ago," the General replied. A pained look crossed the Captain's face, but he pushed it away. Emily, however, pressed a hand to her heart and frowned. This was definitely not how news like that should be broken.

"He was a good man," Rogers stated.

"He was," the General agreed. "It took three heart attacks to get him in the end." Emily cleared her throat, drawing the three men's attention. She subtly shook her head at the General, which caused the Captain to frown.

"What can I do for you, Sir," Rogers asked after a moment.

"I'm actually coming on behalf of the-"

"General," a voice rang out. Emily turned to see Director Fury sweeping into the room, followed by Agent Coulson.

"Director," General Sanders greeted him, turning to shake the man's hand. Although he had a smile on his face, it was rather fixed and didn't reach his eyes. "A pleasure, as always."

"I was surprised to hear that you'd left headquarters before our meeting," Fury said. Coulson walked over to Emily, and placed a hand on the small of her back.

"He wasn't supposed to meet with Rogers alone," he said quietly in her ear.

"One of the agents asked me to fill in," Emily whispered back, aware of piercing gaze the General's assistant as he watched them converse quietly.

"Unless it comes from the Director, Agent Hill or myself, never trust them," Coulson stated, giving her a look that spoke volumes.

"I was just hoping to get a private word with Captain Rogers," the General stated, puffing up his chest. "You aren't trying to stash him away in here, are you?"

"Of course not," Fury countered, "but sending him to Iraq or Afghanistan isn't exactly in our immediate plans for him."

"Excuse me?" Rogers said. The two men ignored him as their power struggle continued.

"He's going to try to get you to go with him somewhere," Coulson continued his quiet instructions. "Go with him. You're an outsider, he might let more slip."

"What?" Emily hissed, her eyes darting to the silent soldier. He was watching her, one eyebrow raised.

"And what is? This Avengers Initiative nonsense? From what I've heard, it's not going to well."

"It's above your pay grade." The General flushed and turned to point at the Captain.

"That man," he spat, "is a member of the United States military. And if he wants to continue to serve his country than nothing you can say can stop him."

"There's more than one way to serve your country," Fury said coldly.

"Excuse me," Rogers said again, more loudly this time. Again he was ignored. Coulson nodded to Emily before striding over to the angry Captain. She wasn't able to hear the conversation that they were having, but it was a relief to have the assistant's probing gaze off of her. She tried to read Coulson's lips as he spoke to Rogers, but he barely seemed to move them.

"Pull the car around," the General snapped. The assistant strode from the room. "Dr. Harthorn." Emily jumped slightly and looked at him.

"Y-yes?"

"Would you like a ride back to S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"N-no, thanks." She felt her cheeks burning as the five men watched her. Coulson twitched an eyebrow, as though he wanted her to do something. "S-shall I see you out?"

"Fine. This isn't over, Fury," the General snarled as Emily walked over. He fell into step beside her as they swept from the gymnasium.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I had no idea that we were supposed to wait for the Director before coming." She looked over and saw his brown eyes still burning with anger. "This is all my fault."

"Of course it's not," he said, pushing the door open for her and jamming on his hat. "It's that idiot that told you we could."

"Still," she said, looking down at the ground. Her heart was thumping so hard she thought it was a miracle that he didn't hear it. "Sorry." He let out a deep breath and looked at the car.

"It's my fault," he said finally. Emily looked up and forced herself to give an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry if I gotten you in trouble with your boss. How about I make it up to you?"

"It's not necessary," she waved off the offer.

"No," he shook his head. "You'd actually be doing me a favor. I've got this gala to go to tonight, and I could use a beautiful woman on my arm." Her smile froze on her mouth.

"I don't know," she said slowly. _Please, please don't push it_, she silently begged.

"It's just dinner," he gave her what he apparently thought was a roguish smile. "I'm sure it would piss Fury off, and that seems like the kind of thing you like to do." Emily looked back at the building before taking a deep breath. Coulson had asked her to do this. And he was one of the few that had shown her any kindness since she'd been at S.H.I.E.L.D.

"What time?" she asked finally.

"Eight o'clock. I'll send a car for you," he grinned before taking both of her hands in his and leaning over to kiss her cheek. "Formal attire."

"Okay," Emily nodded. The General slide into the car and the assistant tipped his hat to her before walking to the driver's side. As the car pulled away from the curb, Emily lifted her hand and waved. "What the hell did I just get myself into?" she asked herself, taking a shaky breath.

After taking a moment to collect herself, Emily turned and reswiped her ID. When the alarm buzzed, she slowly pulled the door open and walked back into the building. Rather than rejoining the group in the main gym, she walked over to the water fountain and took a long drink. Still unwilling to go back, she leaned against the wall and slid down it, putting her head in her hands.

"You okay?"

Emily looked up and saw Steve standing in front of her. "Yeah…no." The corner of his mouth tipped up before he leaned over the water fountain and took a drink.

"They're not too happy with you," he jabbed a finger over his shoulder. Emily shook her head before folding her arms over her knees and resting her head on them.

"When are they ever?" Rogers leaned against the wall and looked down at her in silence. "Why the hell did I turn down the post-doc job?" she groaned.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing," Emily said. She took a deep breath before pushing off of the wall. Rogers pushed off as well and offered her his hand. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied, quickly dropping her hand. Emily gave him a weak smile before walking to the entrance of the gym and, pausing only to steel herself, strode in.

"Did he ask?" Coulson said when he saw her enter. Emily gave a curt nod, watching the look exchanged between the agent and the Director.

"She'll need to be prepped for tonight," Fury said, turning his back to Emily and addressing Coulson. "Romanoff if possible, Hill if not."

"Of course."

"She'll have to be convincing."

"Hey!" Emily said, narrowing her eyes, "I'm right here. You can talk to me." Fury regarded her for a moment before turning back to Coulson.

"She's on you."

"Understood," Coulson nodded. When Fury turned and walked towards the door, Emily stepped in front of him.

"Look, you may think that you can order people around because you're the Director and all, but my contract never said anything about this." Fury's mouth twitched, almost as if he was fighting a smile.

"Doctor," he said, leaning over her slightly, forcing Emily to step backwards, "Believe me, I'd rather have anyone else doing this."

"Good," she snapped, "Because I'm not a god damn spy."

"That's obvious," he said coldly before walking past her. Roger watched from the doorway and shook his head.

"Captain," Fury inclined his head as he walked by.

"Sir," Steve said. He waited a moment before following him. "Director Fury?"

"Yes, Captain?" Fury paused but didn't turn around.

"I don't like bullies," he stated plainly. Fury waited a heartbeat before turning around.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't like bullies," Rogers repeated, "and that woman in there, she's trying. Now I don't know what plans you have for me, but if you want me to go along with them at all..." he trailed off.

"Dr. Harthorn is a grown woman," Fury stated. "She can stand up for herself."

"Sir-" Before he could continue, Fury threw open the door, letting it slam shut.

* * *

**Author's Note: **As you've noticed, this chapter is a lot longer than the other ones thus far. And there's a good explanation for that: the meeting with General Sanders was meant to be the entire chapter, but after the last one, I felt like the first two scenes were necessary. And I want to thank those that reviewed, because you guys made me think about how that would affect Emily, which spawned the Stork Club visit and Garrett being introduced early.

Side note: When Steve hears the song playing, I've always connected it with the Billie Holiday version. The song became very popular during WWII, with both American and British soldiers embracing it as a kind of anthem. If you want more great music from the 40's, I suggest Martha Tilton, Vera Lynn, and Edith Piaf. I usually listen to them while writing/daydreaming, so don't be surprised if they show up in later chapters!

So, this covers a lot of ground and sets up the next chapter where Emily's connection to Steve will be explained! I've got a lot of great guesses so far, and I'm really excited about that. Things are going to pick up relatively quickly after this.

As always, thank you for reading! I love checking my e-mail and seeing double digits with subscriptions, favorites, and reviews =] The previous record you guys broke for hits (1.44K) was broken again on Wednesday with 1.53K! You guys are so awesome!


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten 

Emily looked at the agent across from her. The woman's eyes were narrowed, whether in concentration or annoyance, Em didn't know. "Um…" she began lamely, "When are we-"

"Quiet," the woman snapped before springing out of her chair and beginning to pace. Emily looked at Coulson who shook his head. "How long?"

"A few hours. We just need the basics." She raised an eyebrow and shook her short red locks from her face.

"Naïve."

"Excuse me?" Emily asked, bristling at the slight. Again, the woman ignored her and continued pacing.

"She'll have to play dumb. How long was the General with her?" Coulson looked at Emily who shrugged.

"Less than an hour." The woman stopped and looked at Emily.

"Tell me about Captain Rogers."

"What?"

"How is he doing? Has he begun venturing out without an agent?"

"I don't know, I don't spend much time with-" The woman slammed her hand down on the table, making Emily jump.

"Do you want the Sanders recruiting him?" she snapped. "You give him something like that and he'll know that it's just a waiting game. Now, has Captain Rogers been venturing out without a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?"

"No," Emily said, her voice somewhat unsure, "They're keeping a close eye on him."

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed. The woman narrowed her eyes again. "A lot's changed from the '40's hasn't it? This isn't the same New York he grew up in."

"Good, you can think on your feet," she sat back in the vacant chair and turned to Coulson. "What's the scenario?"

"There's a gala at the Museum of Modern Art tonight. Players from Washington and the UN, possibly the Council." She raised an eyebrow and looked at Emily.

"We can't get an agent in her place?"

"No. Sanders' specifically requested her."

"A wire?"

"No, it won't get passed security." Emily watched the exchange and furrowed her eyebrows. "We're not expecting anything big tonight. Our main target is Sanders."

"We don't have anyone there?" Coulson was quiet for a moment before he stood up, removed his cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, and dialed a number. They could hear a male voice on the line.

"What your plans were for tonight?" he said. He nodded before walking out of the room.

"Would it kill anyone to tell me what the hell is going on?" Emily sighed, leaning back in the chair. The woman smirked.

"You're going to play naïve. You don't know what's going on at S.H.I.E.L.D. except that you were brought in to help Captain Rogers. If Sanders asks for specifics, you divert him. When this fails, he will probably try to gain your trust in some way. _This_," she hissed, "is when you'll have to be on guard. Sanders will use this as leverage over you." She paused. "Anything goes wrong, you call me at this number." The woman withdrew a piece of paper from her leather jacket and took the pen from Emily's folder. _Natasha Romanoff, _she wrote, followed by a series of numbers_._ "If I don't answer, my partner will. You speak to me, Coulson, or Barton, that's it."

"Will anything go wrong?"

"I don't think so," Natasha said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms across her chest. She regarded Emily for a moment. "What are you wearing?"

"No idea."

"Blue or pink. Trustworthiness or innocence."

"I hate pink."

"Blue it is. Hair up, simple make-up." Emily shook her head, thinking about how much she had to do in a few short hours.

"We've got someone in place," Coulson said as he walked back into the room. "He'll make contact with you there."

"And how am I supposed to know who he is?"

"He'll make himself known," he assured her. "You'll do fine."

"We need to go," Natasha stated. "We need to get you ready."

"You'll handle this?" Coulson asked. The redhead jerked her head.

"It gets me out of meeting with Dr. Thompson."

"He'll reschedule you," he smirked.

"Not if I'm in the field again. Doctor?" Emily stood up and followed her out of the room. As they walked down the hall, a man was walking towards them.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes flicking from Natasha to Emily.

"Fine. I need your keys." He raised his eyebrows but pulled them from his pant pocket and tossed them to her. She caught them easily.

"I want it back this time," he stated. "In one piece. The last one made for a lot of paperwork."

"Fine, Clint," she sighed. Natasha motioned for Emily to start walking.

"I mean it this time, Nat!" Clint called after them.

"That would be Agent Barton," Natasha explained, ignoring him. "He's trustworthy." Emily nodded. They didn't talk as they entered the garage and walked towards a red Camaro.

OOO

Emily's hands were shaking as she attempted to paint on the black eyeliner on her top lid. As eight o'clock drew closer, her nerves were getting worse. _This_ was not what she had agreed to when taking this job.

She stepped back from the mirror and took a deep breath while walking into the bedroom. With a few clicks on the computer, her favorite song was playing. She closed her eyes and pictured a calming scene, like her grief councilor had suggested. The image of her grandparents dancing in the kitchen came to mind. Emily smiled and walked back to the bathroom.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras," she sang. "Il me parle tout bas, je vois le vie en rose…"

OOO

"Captain," Agent Romanoff said as she met Captain Rogers in the hall.

"Ma'am," he nodded. She studied him out of the corner of her eye as they walked down the corridor together. As they approached Dr. Harthorn's room, Romanoff stopped walking.

"You do realize the only reason she's doing this is for you." It wasn't a question. During the few hours of shopping and prep work, Natasha had found that she somewhat liked the historian.

"All due respect, Ma'am, but I have no problem rejoining the army." The agent cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms across her chest.

"You honestly have no idea what they have planned for you, do you?"

"Planned for me?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"A lot has changed-"

"So I've been told," he muttered.

"And the last thing we need is you over in the desert," she finished, ignoring the interruption. Without giving him time to respond, she turned on her heel and walked to Emily's door and knocked. When it opened, Steve heard a French woman singing.

OOO

"Good," Natasha said when she saw Emily. She had taken her advice and done simple make up, and her hair was done in an elegant knot (Em hadn't been too keen on the hair extensions, but the stylist had explained it was a single piece, easily taken out). The fringe bangs that usually just got in her eyes were finally tamed and swept to the sides of her face.

"I don't know if I can do this," Emily confessed, sitting down on her bed and folding her hands in her lap.

"That's not an option," she replied, walking to the garment bag handing off of the closet. "You need to get dressed; the General's car will be here soon."

Emily looked at the dress and suppressed a groan. While she'd wanted something more demure, Natasha had insisted on the strapless blue mermaid dress with a deep sweetheart neckline. A little cleavage around an older man could go a long way, she'd insisted. After retrieving her strapless bra from the dresser, Em took the dress and retreated to the bathroom to wiggle into it.

"I need your help," she said when she emerged. "I can't get the zipper." Natasha stepped behind her and pulled the tab up. She inspected the historian before nodding her approval.

"You need to get upstairs."

"I need to do something really quick," Emily said. She grabbed a book nearly bursting from Post It notes from her desk and motioned for the other woman to go out before her. Consciences of how she was being watched, Emily walked down the hall and stopped outside of Steve's room. Hesitantly, she knocked. As expected he didn't answer. Emily didn't think he would. Still, it was a little disappointing.

With shaking hands, Emily propped the book against the door and pulled the folded sheet of paper out a bit more so that it was visible. "Doctor?" Natasha said, tapping her wrist.

"Coming," Emily said, straightening up and walking back towards her.

OOO

Steve stepped out of the shower and rubbed the towel through his hair. Once dressed, he slipped on his shoes, intending to get some dinner. When he opened the door, however, his plans changed.

A red book hit the floor with a thud. Confused, Steve picked it up and read the title, instantly realizing whom it was from. Only Emily would have given him a book entitled 'The Twentieth Century World and Beyond: An International History since 1990'. He thumbed through the pages, pausing at some of the pictures, reading the notes in the margins, and lifted the sheet of paper from the book.

_Steve,_

_I cannot express how sorry I am for what happened. As an apology, I have worked on the project that you and Dr. Thompson had discussed. While it's not complete, I've left the conference room unlocked if you would like to see what I've found thus far. _

_Also, I would like to recommend that you read this book. I usually suggest that my students read over it. It's not as thorough as others, but it's a starting point._

_With sincerest apologies,_

_Em_

Steve looked at Emily's note and shook his head. A starting point? The book had over 500 pages! Still flipping through the book, he shut the door and walked to the conference room, dinner forgotten about.

It was somewhat surprising to Steve when he saw the amount of boxes and files in the room. He set her book down on the table and looked around for a moment, trying to take it all in. Large sheets of white paper had been fixed to the wall, and she'd begun what looked like a timeline of his activities during the War on one wall. The opposite wall was covered in lists of events that occurred afterward, broken up by decade. A large white screen dominated the third wall. On the table, however, a large purple binder caught his attention.

Steve opened the cover and bent over to read the title of the paper: "Selling War: Politics, Propaganda, and Profits in World War II" by Emily Harthorn (B.A. History, B.S. Political Science, M.A. History). He skimmed the table of contents, stopping when he saw "Senator Brandt and the Captain America Project" on chapter four. It covered about 97 pages of the 357 page total. Shaking his head, Steve shut the cover and looked up to see the wall behind the door dominated by numerous white boards, each with a picture attached to the top.

"Son of a gun," he muttered, walking over to it. Steve shut the door and saw the tiny black writing that covered a majority of the surfaces. Shaking his head, stepped in front of the first and started to read.

OOO

"Have I told you how wonderful you look?" General Sanders asked as they walked around the room.

"Yes, but thanks," Emily answered, a tense smile on her lips. He'd spent the last hour and a half an hour introducing her to the various people in attendance. So far, she'd met 7 Senators, 15 Representatives, a handful of ambassadors, and too many military personnel to count. The military were the most difficult; they all seemed to know who she was, and the conversation inevitably turned the Captain Rogers. It had been hard to change the subject so often, but she'd managed.

Sanders placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to a table before pulling the chair out for her. Emily muttered her thanks and sat, setting the champagne glass on the table.

"So," he said, setting his Scotch glass beside hers, "I'm sure Fury was angry that you decided to come tonight."

"Yes," she said, trying to keep herself calm, "you could say that." Sanders grinned and nodded to a couple walking past.

"He's always been easy to piss off, that one. Pardon my French." Emily shook her head and reached for her champagne. "Take Captain Rogers, for instance." She tensed, hand frozen on the stem of the glass. "Ever since they found him, Fury's been blocking every attempt for the DOD to see him."

"Oh?" She lifted the glass to her lips and finished the contents.

"Sure as hell don't know why. The boy seems pretty intent on getting back to work, and we could use him overseas." The General turned to her and looked at her intently. "Has the Captain mentioned anything about rejoining to you?"

"No." It was the honest answer. Sanders noticed her empty glass and flagged down a waiter who replaced it a full one. Remembering how Natasha had warned her about keeping her head, Emily set it on the table after taking a small sip.

"You need to relax, Emily. It's a party, after all."

"Sorry," she smiled shyly, "it's been a while since I've been to a party. I guess I've just forgotten how to act." It was rather uncomfortable when he squeezed her shoulder, lingering a bit too long. "I'm going to slip off to the powder room, if you'd excuse me for a moment."

"Sure. I'll just got say hello to General Roberts over there." Emily grabbed her clutch and walked towards the restroom until she was out of his sight. Then she changed direction and walked towards the elevators. If she was going to be stuck here all night, there was at least one thing she wanted to see.

OOO

Steve shook his head as he stepped away from the second board. "Gabe," he chuckled, "a Senator. Imagine that."

OOO

It was more beautiful in person, not that she hadn't expected that. Starry night was her favorite painting.

"Lovely, isn't it?" a silky British voice said behind her. Emily turned and felt her jaw drop.

"You?"

OOO

_Emily disentangled herself from the conversation and held up her glass, "Be right back," she said. Smiling, she weaved her way through the tables and towards the bar, smoothing down her cocktail dress and avoiding the leering eyes of the businessmen. _

_It was a gorgeous April night, but Emily couldn't help but feel broody. Tomorrow she would be walking across the stage and be awarded her doctorate, the culmination of four and a half years of hard work. She had always pictured herself leaving the school in a blaze of glory, off to another school to educate young minds on the importance of historical preservation (not that her students paid attention). Instead, she would be staying exactly where she was, continuing her research that continually lead to dead ends. _

"_Penny for your thoughts?" a man said, sidling up next to her. Emily turned and regarded him for a moment, instantly captivated by his piercing green-blue eyes. It took her a moment to pull herself away and turn back to look for the bartender._

"_It's nothing," she replied. _

"_Ah," he nodded, his accent drawing the attention of the woman behind him. He didn't seem to notice as he stroked the scruff on his cheeks, "That bad." _

"_I'm sorry?" Emily raised an eyebrow and looked at him again._

"_Whenever a woman says that nothing is on her mind, it's something rather big." Emily shook her head and leaned across the bar, catching the bartender's eye and he nodded, holding up a finger. "Let me guess," the man said, "You're fighting with your boyfriend."_

"_No," she shook her head. He nodded towards her table and smiled again, white teeth flashing behind pale pink lips. _

"_Your boyfriend doesn't seem too happy I'm talking to you." Her eyes darted to Dave, who was watching her intently. She sighed and turned away from him, shaking her head._

"_He's not my boyfriend."_

"_Really? Well in that case, my name's Tristan," he held out his hand. _

"_Emily," she replied, shaking it briefly. _

"_What is it that you do, Emily?" Tristan asked._

"_I'm a student. Or, I was. I'm graduating tomorrow." He raised his eyebrow and Emily noticed a small scar there. _

"_What degree?"_

"_Doctorate of History."_

"_Beautiful and intelligent," he raised his nearly empty glass to her before downing the rest of the contents and settling it on the bar. "Shall I buy you a drink to celebrate?"_

"_No thanks," she laughed, flushed at his complement. "The department has a tab open." The bartender finally showed up and asked for their order._

"_I'll have a Scotch and the Doctor will have a-" Tristan paused and studied her, "A white wine spritzer."_

"_Rum and coke," Emily corrected. "And I'm not a doctor yet."_

"_It's as good as yours," he replied. "What are you plans after graduation?"_

"_I'll still be here," she sighed. "Post-doc work. What do you do?"_

"_I'm an assassin," he said, deadpan. Emily raised an eyebrow again and laughed._

"_An assassin?"_

"_A spy, really. Just assassination on the side." The bartender placed their drinks on in front of them, and Tristan withdrew a twenty-dollar bill from the inside of his black suit jacket, motioning to the both of them. "Keep the change," he said smoothly. _

"_Are you in town for a job?" she asked, playing along with the ruse. _

"_Reconnaissance," he 'admitted'. Emily nodded, sipping her drink._

"_Well, good luck with that. Thanks for the drink." Tristan took her left hand and lifted it to his lips._

"_Good luck, Emily. Maybe we'll see each other again." She blushed again._

"_Erm, maybe. Good luck with the recon." He smiled and released her hand. She walked away, feeling his eyes on her. Emily turned and looked at him; he was rather impressive in his black suit and white shirt, muscles evident even in the dark. He lifted his glass to his lips and downed his Scotch. With a wink, he disappeared into the crowd._

OOO

"Fancy meeting you here," he grinned.

"Tristan?" He laughed.

"It's Carter, actually. Just wanted to check up on how you're fairing."

"You-you're the one that Coulson called?"

"Of course," Carter shrugged. "So, has the General asked you about Captain Rogers yet?"

"Wait, were you being honest at the bar? About the being an assassin part?" Carter looked up at the ceiling and huffed.

"Emily, focus. Rogers, has the General asked you about him yet?"

"What? Yeah."

"And you've deflected him?"

"So far." He'd been trying to turn their conversation to Steve quite a bit, but she'd always tried to get them on a new topic.

"Good. Now, you need to get back down there before he realizes you're missing." Carter wrapped an arm around her waist and steered her back towards the elevator bank.

"Why were you at that bar?" she demanded, stepping out of his grasp.

"Orders are orders," he shrugged.

"So you were hitting on my for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Oh no, that was strictly for myself. Most of my assignments don't involve beautiful women." When the elevators opened, he ushered her inside and pressed the button for the ground floor.

"Quit flirting," Emily demanded. "Aren't you supposed to be making sure I don't make a fool out of myself or something?"

"You've done well so far. Ease off of the bubbly and you'll continue to perform superbly." She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes.

"Asshole."

"You were much more charming at the bar. Perhaps I just need to get you significantly more drunk…"

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." He laughed again and looked at his watch.

"You've already been missing for half an hour. He's going to ask where you've been. Don't tell him we've talked or he'll be suspicious."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Emily muttered as they stepped out of the elevator. She didn't turn back as she spotted the General and walked towards him.

OOO

It had been a severe disappointment when he'd seen the board for Peggy empty. There was a note about referencing previous research, but Steve hadn't been able to locate it. Instead, he'd settled for going through the box marked SSR New Reels.

OOO

"There you are," General Sanders said as Emily walked up to him.

"Sorry, I saw that they had Starry Night upstairs and I couldn't resist," she smiled. "I've always wanted to see it." Sanders nodded.

"Would you like to dance, Doctor?" When she nodded, he led her to the floor and placed a hand on her waist and took her hand in his. They were quiet as they glided across the floor until he spoke again. "Have you been enjoying yourself this evening?"

"Yes," she lied. "It's been interesting."

"More so than your job?"

"I don't know. It's hard to compare."

"You know, if you were to bring Captain Rogers around, I'm sure I could secure you a job with the Department of Defense."

"I'm fine where I am now, thanks." They were quiet again. General Sanders studied her and decided to change tactics.

"I'm glad you're working on this project," the General said. "It has a certain…symmetry."

"Sorry?" Emily asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Your grandfather, he developed the serum, and now you're continuing his work."

"My grandfather?"

"Dr. Erskine," he stated. As the song ended, they clapped and moved from the dance floor, his hand gently guiding her back towards their table.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So a few things. Once again, this is a much longer chapter because I had so much to cover. The next chapter will cover the fallout of the revelation that Emily is Erskine's granddaughter! How many of you saw that coming, in all honesty? I wanted to get quite a few of you with the hint two updates ago, when they discussed her language fluency. I like this one better than the Peggy connection because I've found that a little weird. And I haven't seen the Erskine/OC connection done before.

Also, I know that I didn't get Natasha right, but I always saw her somewhat stressed after what happened in Budapest. Ah, I love that Clint calls her 'Nat' in the movie. *Sigh*.

As for Carter. I'll admit, he was not originally part of the story. I was going to have Pepper be the person she met at the Museum, but after seeing This Means War, I instantly pictured Tom Hardy being part of this. So yes, Carter is Tom Hardy.

Thirdly: while I'm not quite sure when this will happen, there will be a lapse in updates sometime in the next few weeks. My sister is having her daughter and I'll be headed home for that. When that happens, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to update with trying to help with her, seeing my other sister for the first time in a year, and being at my parents house.

As always, let me know what you think! And thank you for reading =]


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

"I think you're mistaken," she said, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "Neither of my grandfathers were scientists."

The General frowned and motioned for his assistant to come forward. The uniformed man appeared at his side and handed the briefcase to his boss. A sense of foreboding hit Emily when she saw him withdraw a folder; folders, she realized, were quickly coming to mean her world was about to change.

"Dr. Abraham Erskine, alias Josef Reinstein, was married to Rose, and they had a daughter, born after his death." Emily's fingers tightened on the table and her breath was knocked from her chest. Unaware of this, the General kept reading.

"Rose remarried, a man named Charles Black, who adopted her daughter, Caroline. Caroline married Matthew, and had two children, your brother and yourself."

"I need…I need some air," Emily gasped, her voice shaking. The General looked up and saw how white she was. For an older man, he was rather quick on his feet. In a flash, he was by her side and was helping her stand. His assistant helped clear a path for them to reach the entrance.

"I thought you knew," he apologized, a wicked glint in his eyes, as he helped her to the stone banister. She could feel the cold of the marble seeping through her dress when she sat and shivered. Unable to speak, she shook her head. "Damn Fury. Just goes to show how little he trusts you."

"Josef Reinstein _was not_ an alias," Emily protested. The bodice of her dress was restricting her breathing uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid it was. After he was gunned down-" he paused when Emily gasped, "S.H.I.E.L.D. moved his wife, as per his request."

"No," she shook her head vigorously. "My grandfather died in a car accident."

"Is everything alright here?" Carter asked. His eyes darted from the General to Emily, who looked whiter than a ghost.

"We're fine here," the General snapped, his glowing. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent paused before walking back into the building.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Emily muttered. She was starting to hyperventilate." Sanders seemed to realize this and crouched down in front of her.

"Doctor, breathe. I need you to take a breath and relax." Em curled into herself and cursed the restrictiveness of the dress. "James, go get the doctor's things. You'll take the doctor back to S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Yes sir," the assistant said.

"Emily," Sanders said, placing a hand on her cheek, "do you really want to protect an institution that would keep such important things from you?" She looked up just long enough to glare at him, and noticed Carter hiding in the shadows. He gave her a pointed look and she stood up quickly.

"I-I'll find my own way back, thanks."

"That's not necessary. Here," he said, shrugging off his dress uniform jacket and attempting to drape it around her shoulders. "You're in shock."

"I'm fine," she said pushing his hand away. When James returned, she grabbed her clutch from hands. "I just need to walk and clear my head."

"My car is just-"

"Thanks for…letting me know," she finished. In all honesty, she couldn't have said 'for a wonderful evening' when she'd been tense for the entirety.

"At least let me know that you've made it back safely," the General said, taking a card from his wallet. "My cell phone number is on there."

"I will. Good night." Emily turned and walked down the steps; as much as she wanted to run, it wasn't the best idea in heels. She'd made it down the street and around a corner before a car pulled up next to her.

"Get in," Carter ordered.

OOO

"Where is he?" Emily demanded as she stormed into the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters a few minutes later. Carter had taken most corners on two wheels, broke numerous traffic laws, and hadn't said a single word.

"Who?" he asked.

"Fury!" Carter looked at her for a moment before motioning for her to follow him. As they walked he undid his tie, shoving the strip of fabric in his jacket pocket, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

"I'm not quite sure what you're hoping to get from meeting with him," he said, "but the Director is a busy man."

"I don't give a crap about his schedule," she snapped. The corner of his lip twitched as if he was fighting a smile and he sped up to stand in front of her. Emily stopped walking and frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, his eye boring into hers. "This is it." Carter smirked and threw the door beside them open and bowed slightly, "After you." Emily narrowed her eyes and hurried into the room where Fury was standing with his back to her.

"You, Doctor, are not supposed to be back for a few hours," he stated.

"Is it true?" Emily demanded. Fury sighed and turned around.

"Is what true?"

"That Dr. Erskine… that Josef Reinstein…" her voice caught.

"Josef Reinstein never existed. As part of his agreement with the U.S. government, Dr. Abraham Erskine was assured that if he were killed, his family would be protected." Emily felt her knees go weak, and must have started to sink to the floor, because Carter was suddenly behind her with an arm wrapped around her waist. He pulled her into his chest to keep her upright.

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not necessary for your job," Fury stated, turning and leaning across the desk. Emily felt her face flush and tried to step towards him, her hand itching to slap the look off of the Director's face, but Carter restrained her.

"No you don't," he purred in her ear.

"Not necessary…this is my life you're talking about!" Emily protested, pushing the agent away from her. "It's one thing to mess with American history, but this is _my_ history! _Let go of me_," she snarled, struggling against Carter. Fury's gaze met his agent's and he nodded slightly. Smirking, the Brit released her and stepped back to lean against the wall.

"This," Fury's cold voice echoed across the room, "is exactly why you weren't told. You, Dr. Harthorn, let your emotions rule you."

"Yeah?" Emily countered, blinking away the angry tears gathering in her eyes, "Like this?" She held up her middle finger; Fury narrowed her eyes, but Carter chuckled, which he quickly turned into a cough. "I want _everything_, and I mean everything, on Dr. Erskine."

"You have everything."

"Bullshit," she spat, "you call that redacted information everything you have? I don't even have a picture of him." The two adversaries glared at one another until Emily shook her head, "I _knew_ something was wrong."

"You'll have what you want in the morning," Fury stated, his tone obviously dismissing her. When she didn't move, he nodded to Carter again. The agent pushed off the wall and grabbed Emily's elbow.

"Come along, Dr. Harthorn," he said. She tried to push him off, but he held tight and steered her from the room. Once in the hallway, he let her go. "I can't believe you did that," Carter snickered. Ignoring him, Emily strode down the hall.

OOO

Steve sat, chin in hand, watching the news reel. He smiled sadly as he saw his friends as they strategized an attack. The first time he'd watched it, seeing Bucky had hurt; catching the glimpse of his compass and Peggy's picture had as well. But he felt somewhat better after retrieving her picture from the white board, and finding Bucky's in the personnel file buried in Emily's notes.

It had been surprising how much information there was about him. Steve couldn't help feeling as though it was incredibly invasive. And Emily had gone through a majority of it: he'd read her notations, becoming familiar with the tiny, cramped handwriting.

The door slammed over and Steve leapt to his feet, muscles tensed in preparation for an attack. When the light flicked on, Emily didn't even look over at him as she stomped across the room and began flicking through the files, muttering to herself. "Emily?"

"Where the hell is it?" she asked herself, shifting to another pile. Steve frowned when he saw how frantic she was, and the tears that coursed down her face.

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing," a voice said from the doorway. A man leaned against the frame and crossed his arms across his chest. "Our dear doctor hadn't realized that many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents have connections to past projects. She's just found out about hers." Steve turned away from the stranger and to Emily, who hadn't stopped her search.

"Emily?" he asked again.

"Incidentally," Carter spoke again, "there's mine." Steve turned and followed his gaze. James Falsworth's image filled the screen.

"Union Jack?" Steve asked. Carter smirked and shook his head.

"Carter Falsworth. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Captain Rogers. My grandparents spoke highly of you." Carter held out his hand and Steve shook it, still staring at the British agent.

"Grandparents?" he asked, emphasizing the plural.

"Margaret Carter was my grandmother. I believe you knew her as Peggy." Steve was vaguely aware that Emily had stopped rummaging, but his gaze was focused on the man in front of him. His last statement ran through the air.

"_Margret Carter was my grandmother."_ He was rooted to the spot, his brain slowly filtering the information. Falsworth had married Peggy. They'd had children. Their grandson was standing in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw a flash of blue as Emily flew across the room. "You ASSHOLE!" she screeched. "Is that really how you told him?" Carter fended off the blows that she tried to deal him easily. He finally caught her wrists as she shoved him.

"Really, was that necessary?" he asked. Emily jerked back, trying to wrench herself from his grip but he held fast. "I was hoping this would go better. Your grandfather and my grandmother were such good friends."

"Is that why you were the one that spied on me?" she asked.

"I'd hardly call it spying," he replied. "Like I told you then, love, it was reconnaissance." Emily snarled and pushed against him.

"Don't call me that."

"It's not like I saw anything _interesting_," Carter continued as if she hadn't said anything. "Oh, except your tawdry little affair with the professor." Emily's jaw dropped as a fresh surge of anger hit her. "Honestly, you should be thanking me. Your life was rather boring."

Emily managed to get her right hand free and drew it back to slap him. Carter easily captured it and pulled her close, spinning her at the last moment so that her arms were crossed over her body. "Calm down, Emily, I'm only joking."

"Let her go," Steve said, finally recovering his voice. He'd watched the exchange in a state of shock. When Carter didn't move, Steve took a step towards him, fist clenched tightly.

"Alright, alright," the agent said, releasing her and putting his hands up. "No need to get violent, Captain."

"Are you okay?" Steve asked through a clenched jaw. Emily stepped away from Carter and resisted the urge to stomp on his foot.

"Fine," she answered. "Are you?" Steve didn't answer but reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

"Your nose is bleeding."

"What?" Emily reached up and felt wiped at her nose. When she pulled her hand away, a small amount of blood was there.

"Did he hurt you?" stormy blue eyes landed on Carter who raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't touch her, and neither did Fury."

"It's a stress reaction," said Emily, trying to avoid a fight. She pinched her nose and, after Steve pressed the fabric square into her hand, cleaned her hand and pressed it to her face. With a deep breath, she walked over to her research and began to look for Erskine's file again. Steve watched her for a moment before turning to Carter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you're Peggy's…grandson." Carter nodded, his eyes on Emily. "And Falsworth's." Again, Carter nodded.

"I'm sorry if it's a bit of a shock. I thought you would have been told already," he said. Steve looked at the whiteboards.

"No, I hadn't." He reread Emily's note, _See previous research_. Steve turned to her, about to ask why she hadn't said something earlier, but stopped.

Emily had sunk into a chair and was dabbing at her eyes with the bloody handkerchief. She'd apparently found what she was looking for. "Emily?"

She didn't look up, but shook her head. "Fuck all of this," she said quietly. Quickly, she stood up and grabbed the file. Without another word, she walked to the door and tried to get past Carter, who stood in her way. "Move."

"Where are you going?"

"Away from here." Carter shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "I said move!" Without warning, she lashed out and shoved him back. Caught off guard, Carter stumbled back and laughed as she shot out of the door and towards her room.

"You said your…Peggy," Steve said as the two men went after her, "and Emily's grandfather were friends?" It was obvious what he was asking.

"Dr. Erskine," Carter replied. The two stopped outside of Emily's door, where they heard her moving around. Rather than knocking, Carter threw the door open, and Steve stood in the doorway. "Where are you going?" he asked again.

"I'm not staying here," was all she said as she shoved clothing into a duffle bag. Emily walked into the bathroom and retrieved a few more things before she walked out and saw Carter sitting on her bed and Steve watching her. His blue eyes were focused, as if trying to see traces of Erskine in her features. She flushed under his gaze and turned to grab the journal from the desk.

Carter flipped through the pages idly before handing it to her. "Make no calls tonight." Snatching it from him, Emily glared and pulled the keys off of the dresser.

"Excuse me," she said to Steve as she stood in front of him.

"Are you coming back?" he asked.

"I don't know." Steve sighed and stepped aside.

OOO

"God damn it!" Emily snarled as she struggled with the zipper of the dress. Finally, after contorting into an awkward angle, she managed to pull it down and stepped out of the dress. Her feet were aching from the heels, which were quickly kicked off.

Finally ready for bed, Em retrieved the journal from her bag and sat on the bed, slipping on her glasses and curling her legs under her. The cell phone that she'd thrown in frustration was flipped to the floor as she threw back the covers and crawled in. S.H.I.E.L.D. had apparently cut off her service, because every time she'd attempted to call her mother, the call had failed.

"Ok," she breathed, slowly opening the cover. Her index finger traced the words written, ones possibly written by her grandfather. "Suspend your reality. Your grandfather was a German scientist who created a super soldier serum. He wasn't a medical doctor in New York. He was killed by a Nazi spy, not in a car accident."

It was ridiculous. All of it.

OOO

"_Fine, run," Garrett challenged her. "It's what you do, Em Things get tough and instead of facing it, you cut and run."_

"_Go to hell," she snapped, grabbing her purse. _

"_You know what? One day, you're going to look back and realize that no one's chasing you, and what are you going to do then?" he asked, his green eyes flashing. _

"_Keep running." Garrett shook his head and cursed._

"_You're an idiot."_

"_Love you, too," she spat. "I'll be at the office." Before she could make the door, Garrett spun her and pinned her against the wall. _

"_No. If you go, I'm just going to follow you," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "You're staying here."_

"_Garr-"_

"_No, Emily Rose Harthorn. You're staying at home and we're going to talk. Because I'm not done yelling at you yet, and I know you're not done yelling at me." Emily narrowed her eye and huffed._

"_Fine."_

"_Good. I'm not up for chasing you tonight," he smirked before kissing her._

OOO

"You could have told me," Steve said. Fury took a deep breath, wishing that he was on the Helicarrier at the moment, or that Coulson and Sitwell were back from the California. Damn Stark…

"If you're asking for a list of all agents who have family involved with Operation: Rebirth, it won't be long."

"Who else?" Fury turned to face the irate soldier.

"You've been made aware of Agent Falsworth. Agent Carter is the niece of Peggy Carter. General Phillips' great-grandson was an agent but he was killed a few years ago. Tim Dugan retired a few years ago. Howard Stark's son," he allowed himself a moment to collect himself, "is a consultant for us. And, of course, Dr. Harthorn."

"She had a right to know."

"Our deception kept the family safe."

"The war ended a long time ago." Fury shook his head and clasped his arms behind his back.

"You think that just because the Nazis fell, people wouldn't be looking for Erskine's family? He created the worlds first super hero."

"The formula was lost when he died."

"They didn't know that. How many would have cared about torturing and killing Erskine's wife if there was a slight chance of her knowing something?" Steve frowned and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You could have told Emily about it when she got here."

"I told you before, Cap, she's a grown woman. She can fight her own battles."

"If she comes back." Fury's eyebrows knitted.

"She'll be back." His statement was full of confidence. If Dr. Harthorn refused to come back, he though…her refusal wouldn't last long.

"You're not going to force her," the Captain stated, as if reading the Director's mind. "If Emily quits, she walks away and you leave her alone."

"Rogers, she wouldn't be here in the first place if she knew how much S.H.I.E.L.D. had interfered with her life already."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Surprise! Yeah, as I said in the last chapter, Carter (Tom Hardy) wasn't even originally in the plot, but after This Means War, he just weaseled his way in. He's pretty fun to write.

Ok, so when I originally started thinking about this, it started with "What if Erskine had a family?" and kind of spiraled off from there. I'm glad you guys like the twist! I was kind of worried about it.

What do you think about Emily's reaction? Steve's? I want to thank Jen Lennon (now blown-transistor) for her input (she's got a good Steve/OC story if you're interested). As always, thanks for reading! You guys are awesome =] You once again broke my record, with 1.66K hits, 222 subscriptions, 97 favorites, and (my favorite) 109 reviews! THANK YOU SO MUCH!


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Steve ran.

After meeting with Fury, he'd been restless. Images of Peggy with James Falsworth had lodged themselves in his brain and refused to be pushed aside. Peggy, _his _Peggy, had rarely spoken to the man.

It was hard not to feel betrayed. His friend and his girl…

Sure, he'd thought that Peggy would have moved on, hoped that she'd found some happiness, but with Falsworth? Steve altered his running course and jogged in the direction of his gym (as he'd taken to thinking of it) as he fought the urge to hit something.

Stark would have made more sense. He could have handled Stark with Peggy. Sure, he was a womanizer, but he'd seen them together. He'd seen the flirtation. Howard had clearly been interested.

Falsworth.

Lord James Montgomery Falsworth, the file had said. Peggy had married, had two children with, a British lord.

And that agent, Carter, was their grandson. Steve lifted one of the punching bags to the hook and jabbed it with his right fist. Their _grandson_.

Steve suddenly felt tired. His head dropped as he walked to the center of the boxing ring and lay down. _Grandson_. He was old enough to be a grandfather, even if he didn't look like it.

Although he'd never seriously considered the possibility of a family, he'd wanted one. Before the serum, he was lucky if a dame even glanced at him. After…there hadn't been time. But during the cold nights of the War, he'd pictured what it would have been like to have children with Peggy's eyes. To teach his son to throw a baseball. To worry as a young man tried to steal his daughter's heart.

Shaking his head, he tried to push those thoughts out of his head. His wrapped hands pressed his eyes hard, trying to grind the images out, and when he opened them, the blurriness was welcome.

Falsworth.

Despite his resentment, Steve knew that James was a good man. He'd fought for his country even when he didn't have to. He'd been a good companion as they'd trekked through snowy fields, made sure that others had what they needed, and watched everyone's six. Had he not crashed the plane, Steve was sure that he and James would have remained good friends. But it wouldn't have been James that Peggy had married.

"I thought I might find you here." Steve looked up and saw the last person he wanted to see at that moment.

"Now's not a great time," he replied, draping an arm across his eyes. Carter walked up for the ring and leaned against the ropes.

"I'm sure it's not. But I thought you might like to know about my-Peggy," he corrected himself quickly upon seeing Steve's arm twitch.

"Like I said-"

"It's a one time offer, Captain." Something in his voice made Steve sit up.

OOO

Agent Falsworth pulled his silver BMW into the parking spot and lowered his sunglasses. With a sigh, he stepped out of the car and tugged his black t-shirt down before reaching into his jean's pocket and sliding a gold wedding ring onto his third finger on the left hand. From the passenger's side, Carter retrieved the folder, journal, bag of scones, and two coffees before mentally preparing himself.

"Morning," the tired girl behind the desk said.

"Good morning," Carter replied, walking past her. He walked down the hall and found Emily's room. A maid was a little bit down the hall, and he saw his opportunity.

"Excuse me," he said, leaning into the open room.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, peaking out from the bathroom.

"I hope so," Carter gave her a self-deprecating grin. "I just ran out for some coffee and forgot my room key. I tried calling my wife but she must have forgotten to take the phone off silent." The woman's eyes shot to his ring finger and the items in his hands, and she nodded. "Thank you."

"Just this once," she warned.

"Of course," he agreed. When the door was shut behind him, he walked into the room quietly and set his things down on the small table and slipped the ring back into his pocket. Emily was still asleep, resting on her side, glasses askew on her nose, and the other journal resting on her thigh. The contents of Erskine's redacted folder were spread out by her feet, as though she'd fallen asleep re-reading it. Smirking, Carter crept across the room and slipped out of his shoes before gently sitting on the bed and leaning back against the pillows, hands clasped behind his head.

Emily frowned and let out a little moan, squeezing her eyes closed tighter, making Carter chuckle. "Morning, darling." Her brown eyes shot open and Emily scrambled out of bed, tumbling out and hitting her head on the bedside table. He laughed loudly.

"_Merde! _How the hell did you get in here?" Emily asked, rubbing her head and grimacing.

"Can't tell you the tricks of the trade," he teased, sitting up. "I'd have to kill you."

"Get out."

"But I've brought you coffee."

"Leave it and get out."

"Tut-tut, that's not very polite."

"Neither is breaking and entering. Seriously, what the hell do you want?" she asked, getting to her feet.

"Well, as I said before, I've brought you breakfast. I've also brought you some things that Fury promised you. But, in return, I'd like something." Narrowing her eyes, Emily studied him.

"What?"

"I'd like to know why you hadn't told Captain Rogers about my grandparents." That hadn't been what Emily expected. When she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. "And don't lie and say you didn't know, because I _know _you did."

"I wasn't going to deny it," she countered, crossing her arms across her chest. It took a moment, but she suddenly blushed and hurried over to her suitcase and retrieved the bra she'd thrown there.

"It's not like I haven't seen them before," he drawled as Emily darted into the bathroom. "Well, not that particular set, but still, they're all relatively the-"

"Shut up," she snarled, reemerging and adjusting her shirt. Without another word, she walked to the table and looked at the coffees, frowning at the cups. "How did you know what I order?"

"I told you, your life is rather boring. You ordered a grande peppermint white mocha every morning before your 9:00 office hours."

"Exactly how long were you spying on me?" she asked after peaking into the bag and raising an eyebrow at the scones.

"I asked you a question first." Emily sighed and sat in the chair, drawing her knees to her chest and meeting his blue-green eyes.

"I don't know."

"That's not answer."

"It is. I haven't spent much time with Steve, and we never talked about the people he knew. Except Er-" she cut herself off. To cover, she took a sip of her coffee and felt it scalding her throat. "How did you know I knew?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked, "I spoke to you on the phone, love."

"That was you?" she sat up.

"Well, I couldn't have every historian bothering my grandmother. I remember you being rather adamant about meeting her."

"She was my best lead to Captain America."

"Which would be why I might have suggested to your advisor that we might take legal action if you didn't cease your constant phone calls." Emily scowled.

"Thanks for that." Carter stood up and walked towards her, grabbing the second cup of coffee from the drink carrier, looked down at her.

"She would have liked you." The corner of Emily's lip twitched.

"Did you know about her…relationship with Steve?" Carter's eyes darkened as he took a sip of coffee, giving himself a moment to compose an answer.

"Not until the Alzheimer's progressed. She kept asking for Steve, and complaining about Howard not finding him."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I didn't know." Carter looked down at her and ran a hand across his face, scratching the scruff on his cheek. After seeming to shake himself, a small smile appeared on his lips.

"No one did. It's been about a year now since she..." He took a deep breath, "Now, enough about my family, onto yours. Those," he pointed to the journal and file, "are some of what you…_requested_." He seemed to fight back a grin as he remembered her confrontation with Fury. "Your grandfather was a prolific journaler. This is one that I thought you might find interesting. The rest are being brought to your room at S.H.I.E.L.D. Assuming you go back, of course."

"I'll at least be going back for my stuff," she said, her fingers tracing the cover of the journal.

"Really, must we keep up the charade?" he said suddenly, sitting in the chair across from her. "You're going to come back."

OOO

It annoyed Emily that Carter was right.

After they'd shared the scones and she'd yelled at him about his 'tawdry affair' remark, he'd left. Emily had been torn between wanting to read the file and the journal. One look at the journal, however, made her realize that her German dictionary would be necessary for the best translation (she'd failed to grab her laptop).

At eleven o'clock, she'd left the hotel and reluctantly returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. With her bag slung over her shoulder, dress draped over her arm, and journals cradled to her chest, she walked down the hall looking at the floor. Her feet were aching from the heels she'd been forced to wear again; in her haste the night before she'd forgotten another pair of shoes.

When she stopped in front of her door, she was surprised to see an envelope stuck between the door and the frame. Expecting a reprimand for her actions the night before, Emily huffed. Instead, she was left utterly confused.

_Em,_

_Heard you had a rough night. Though these might put a smile on your face. Enjoy._

Two tickets for the Broadway musical _Wicked_ had been folded into the typed letter. Emily flipped over the sheet of paper, hoping that there might be more on the back, but it was blank. Who had given these to her? And why _this _particular play? Em had wanted to the see it for years but had never made it to New York. There were dozens of other shows on any given day; it could have easily been on of those. Wasn't Phantom of the Opera what everyone assumed women wanted to see? (Not that she would have scoffed at those tickets, either.)

She was still staring at the paper when Steve found her a few moments later. "You came back," he said. Emily jumped and turned towards him, frowning at what she saw. Steve looked like crap. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked as though he'd slept in the clothes he was wearing. His normally smooth face was covered with stubble.

"Are you…did Carter-?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." Steve's jaw tightened and he jerked his head. Emily shifted her weight, feeling the shoes pinch her toes, and looked down at the tickets in her hand. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I guess I'll have to be. Are you?" she sighed and unlocked the door to her room.

"I guess I'll have to be." Steve gave a sad chuckle and shook his head.

"He was a good man. He would have been proud of you." Emily's eyes were hot and she pushed the door open, trying to escape his gaze. She tried to figure out what she was feeling and slowly came to the realization that it was shame.

"I don't even think about him," she said softly, setting the bag on the floor and tossing the dress onto the bed. With care, she set the journals on the desk.

"What to do you mean?" She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, as if unsure if he should come in or not. With a steadying breath, she turned and leaned against the desk and motioned for him to come in. Steve shut the door behind him, standing awkwardly by it.

"I mean, when Sanders said that my grandfather made the serum, I thought of Grand-père Black and Grandpa Harthorn. Josef… Abraham," she paused, eyes studying the carpet pattern. "I never thought of him."

"Oh," was all Steve said.

"No one remembers him. None of his family knows what he did. Grand-mère Brigitte," she shook her head and placed a hand on her forehead, "I mean, Ingrid, when she died, it all went with her." Steve took a step towards her and was about to say something when a noise went off. Emily jumped and shoved a hand in her pocket, frowning at the black rectangle she held. She looked from Steve to the thing before hitting a button and holding it to her ear. "Hello?" her voice rose on the second syllable. "General," she sighed, eyes darting to Steve, who had just realized that the rectangle was some sort of phone.

"I'll go," he said quietly. Emily shook her head vigorously and held up a finger.

"I'm fine. A bit in shock, to be honest." She closed her eyes and tilted her head down, her hair falling in her face. Steve shifted his weigh, watching as her shoulders hunched as if trying to protect herself from something. "Mmhmm. I'll keep it in mind. But can I ask how you got my phone number?" Em shook her head and tucked the hair behind her ear. "Yes. Thank you. Like I said before-… Yes... General, I'm not quite sure-…That's not my place to say. If you contact the Director-…Sir-" she huffed and looked at Steve. "Look, you're going to have to talk to Fury. I'm sorry, but I have to get off the phone. Thank you again for the evening." Before Sanders could say anything else, Emily hung up and set the phone on the desk.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"He's persistent, I'll give him that," she sighed. Emily leaned back again, her hand brushing the letter that she'd found. The two tickets fluttered to the ground, and they both reached out for them, each retrieving one.

"_Wicked_?" he asked, reading the ticket. His red eyes met hers, "What's it about?"

"It's based on the Wizard of Oz, but it's set before Dorothy got there." Steve's lip twitched, as though he was going to smile, but didn't.

"Sounds interesting. Enjoy." He handed the ticket to her. "I'm going to go."

"Ok," she said as they stood. When his hand was on the doorknob, she spoke again. "Did you want to go?" Steve turned to face her. "I mean, I've got two tickets and I think we could both use some time away from here."

Steve looked away from Emily and took a breath. He _could_ use time away from S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd planned on getting a quick shower and meal before going back to the gym. It was easier to stop thinking when he was physically exhausted. He had made up his mind to decline, but when he looked at Emily, her brown eyes beseeching him, he changed his mind. If nothing else, he would be helping her. And he owed her grandfather everything.

"Sure." The smile she gave him was infectious. He felt himself smile back, even though he thought he wouldn't be happy for quite a long time.

"Ok. The show is at eight, so maybe we can grab some dinner before hand?" Steve jerked his head in agreement. "So, we should leave here around six. Is that alright with you?" Emily asked.

"That's fine," he replied.

"I'll see you then." Steve nodded and opened the door to leave. "Oh, and Steve?"

"Yes?" he said, turning back to her.

"Try to get some sleep." The sadness is back in her eyes as she studied him.

"I will."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Alright, alright. I'm not too happy with how I had Steve deal, but I couldn't think of another way to do it. I know a lot of you said that he seemed too calm in the last chapter, but that's because I wanted more time to do it in this one. Also, yes, Emily knew about Peggy. If you remember, in the 4th chapter (where she and Dr. Thompson go over the re-acclimation room), she mentions how Dr. Collins (her advisor) warned her off going to England because "She's an old woman. You don't want to go traipsing off to England for a dead end."

Before I get a million questions, no, Carter is not married. The ring is a prop for his missions.

Also, because this Wednesday is the 4th of July, I have the day off from work! Haha, not that you care about that. In honor of it being Captain Roger's birthday, I'll be posting again. So, lucky you, you'll get 3 chapters this week! As you guessed it, the chapter on Wednesday will be Emily and Steve's outing to see _Wicked_.

Hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Steve had taken Emily's advice and slept. He had fallen into bed, exhaustion pulling him into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

Emily, however, had begun to translate her – Erskine's – journal. Her mind still stumbled whenever she tried to connect the scientist with her family. Translating his words had been slow, painstaking work. A combination of unknown terms and the need to having everything just right was making her write very slowly. At four o'clock, however, she was pulled away from her work when someone knocked on her door.

"Come in."

"Hello," Dr. Thompson said as he pushed the door open. Emily set her pen down on the notebook and turned to face him. "I see you've begun translating your grandfather's work."

"Yes," she replied. The psychologist stood by the door and sighed, his weary blue eyes meeting hers.

"I was unaware that the Director had decided to withhold the information from you. Had I known, I would have made sure you were informed." Something in his voice and body language convinced Emily that he was being sincere. Her shoulder slumped and she stood up, pushing the chair back under the desk.

"Is this why I was chosen?" she asked, motioning the journal.

"Goodness, no, my dear girl," Thompson said, walking across the room and placing a hand on either shoulder. "You were picked on your own merit. Believe me," he placed a finger under her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes, "I had a hand in choosing who would be helping Captain Rogers. You are the best candidate." Emily swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in her throat.

"I just-I don't feel like I am," she replied. Thompson sighed again and went to sit on her bed, patting the space beside him.

"It's a difficult position you've been put in, and you've done admirably thus far. From what Fury has told me, Rogers has become very protective of you."

"I don't need his-"

"I know you don't require his protection," he cut her off. "But it's encouraging. Now, I've come to ask for a favor from you."

"What is it?" she asked. He smiled and patted her hand.

"Agent Falsworth has informed me that Rogers had seen the fruit of your research about his comrades." Emily nodded, flinching slightly as she remembered Steve's disheveled appearance that morning. "I would ask that you help him with the next step."

"Which is?"

"Seeing them again." Emily's eyebrows shot up.

"Isn't that something you should do? I mean, you're the psychologist, you'd be better equipped to help him." Thompson shook his head.

"I would, you see, but I have responsibilities here that I must attend to. And I'm not sure that having a psychologist at hand is more advantageous than having a friend."

"Wouldn't seeing them be painful? He's supposed to be the same age as them. Won't it be worse?"

"I really don't think we'll be able to help him move past what happened without him seeing his friends. This is important, Emily." She waited, a heartbeat before answering.

"If it's what he wants to do, I'll go."

"Excellent," Thompson grinned, taking her hand in his. "Shall I tell him or will you?"

"You."

"Of course. I tried to speak to him just now but he wouldn't answer his door."

"He had a rough night," she shrugged. Thompson nodded knowingly.

"We've an appointment on Monday. I'll tell him then. Well, I'm off. My wife will be wondering why it's taken so long to get potting soil." He rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Thanks for the tickets, by the way," Emily said as they walked to the door.

"Tickets?"

"To_ Wicked_. I thought they might be from you," she frowned.

"No, I'm afraid not. It's a wonderful show, though. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Goodbye, Dr. Harthorn."

"Bye." Emily shut the door behind him and leaned against it. If it wasn't Thompson, who had given her the tickets?"

OOO

At five o'clock, Steve began getting ready. As he was shaving, an unbidden thought came to him: he was going on a date.

Not a real date, he reasoned with himself. A friendly date. Two friends going out for dinner. No romantic intentions. Still, he couldn't help but hear Bucky teasing him. 'Finally, you get a good-looking broad and you're not interested in dating her? Come on, Steve,' the ghost said.

Emily, however, had started getting ready at 4:30. It had taken nearly half an hour to decide what to wear in her limited wardrobe (really, she thought, I need to get more than just work clothes here). When five o'clock hit, she stood in front of her bed examining two outfits: a pair of dark jeans, white tank top, and a green tweed, fitted blazer, and a navy shirt, a white polka dotted blouse with a black ribbon tie in the back, and a wide brown belt. A quick game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe picked the skirt (Emily felt a pang of loneliness when she thought of how her girlfriends would have helped her pick).

She was running late, Em realized when she got out of the shower twenty minutes later. After applying lotion and wiggling into the skirt, she stood in front of her mirror and quickly plucked her eyebrows before slipping on her navy ballerina flats with white trim. Half dressed, she did her make-up and glanced frantically at the clock. "Crap, crap, crap," she groaned when she saw that it was now 5:45. When the mascara was applied, she smeared on red lip tint and dashed to the bathroom to blot some off. Finally fully dressed, she turned to do her hair and left out a frustrated groan at the frizzy mess. Without much time to fix it, she grabbed a clip and pulled half of it back from her face, her bangs falling and framing her face.

At 6:00 on the dot, Steve knocked on her door. "Why isn't he like every guy and late?" Emily sighed, slipping on a silver bracelet, fixing her locket, and grabbing her purse. She had to quickly double back and grab the tickets. "Hi," she said when she finally opened the door.

Steve's eyes widened slightly. He had half expected to see Emily in her usual week's attire. Instead, this was…different. "Hi," he replied.

Em was glad she'd gone with the skirt when she saw him in khakis and a blue button down and tie, with his leather jacket draped over his arm. For a split second, she thought about darting back into the room and changing into heels when she noticed their considerable height difference. She hadn't realized it before, but he was a good five or six inches taller than she, but that thought was pushed away when her feet throbbed at the idea of high heels. "You look nice," Steve said after a moment.

"Thanks, you too. Shall we?" Em asked. Yes, this wasn't awkward at all…

OOO

They ended up at an Italian restaurant that Emily had looked up earlier in the day. It took a few minutes to be seated, where Steve and Emily continued their awkward chatting, consisting mostly of the weather and speculating when Coulson would be back. Both were keenly aware that this was the longest time they'd spent in each other's company, and the first time away from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s watchful eyes.

"Thank you," Emily said as the waiter pulled out her chair.

"You're welcome. My name is Victor and I'll be serving you tonight. Would you like to begin with something to drink? Our wine list is on the back of the menu."

"I'll have a glass of the Moscato d'Asti," Emily ordered.

"Water will be fine," Steve said. Emily suppressed a sigh. Alcohol in both of their systems would have made this much easier.

"Perfect. Now our specials tonight are…" Victor began to list them. Steve seemed to get lost and looked at Emily who nodded, making comments every once in a while. "So I'll give you a minute to decide."

"Thanks," she smiled. Unaware of Steve's gaze, she reached into her purse and retrieved her glasses, slipping the dark frames on. "The Fantasia sounds amazing."

"I've never heard of most of these dishes," Steve admitted. Emily looked up from her menu and smiled before biting her lower lip.

"Sorry, I should have asked if you'd had Italian before."

"Pizza was pretty popular, but I don't see that one the menu." Emily chuckled.

"Ok, so what do you like?"

"I'm not too fussy." He was confused when she pressed her lips together as if trying not to laugh, going slightly red from the effort. "What?"

"Sorry, it's nothing. Ok," she took a breath, trying to push away the memory of her grandmother accusing her of being a fussy eater. "Do you feel like having chicken, veal, sea food," he watched her wrinkle her nose at the choice, "or something grilled?" Steve looked down at the menu.

"Holy cow, are those the prices?" Emily shushed him quickly, noticing the looks some of the other patrons were giving them. Steve was thinking of the small number of bills in his wallet, wondering how he would be lucky to get out of here affording dinner.

"Things are a lot more expensive than they were in the '40's," she explained. "With inflation and the devaluation of currency…this is actually a reasonably priced place."

"Sorry," he said, blushing. "It's just, wow. You could go to the automat every day for a few weeks for the price of one of these meals." Emily fell silent, unable to think of anything to say.

"Here we are," Victor arrived and placed the pair's drinks in front of them. "Are you ready or do you need another minute." Emily looked at Steve who shrugged.

"Another minute, if you don't mind."

"No problem," he smiled and retreated. Emily took a sip of her wine and turned her attention back to the menu.

"Parmigiana is always popular if you feel like having chicken tonight."

"I'll have that then," he nodded. Emily looked up and caught Victor's eye and walked back over. After they placed their orders, she took off her glasses and put them back in her purse. "You only need them for reading?"

"What?" Emily asked. When he pointed to her glasses case she nodded. "I'm supposed to. My optometrist keeps telling me that I'm going to end up needing them all the time if I keep wearing them like I do. But is it my fault if 90% of my day is spent reading?" She felt a thrill of success when he smiled.

"Is that what you do for fun? Read?"

"What is this 'fun' concept? I've never heard of it." Steve laughed and reached for his water. Emily grinned as she sipped her wine. "I haven't had much free time in the last few years, so honestly I don't remember what I used to do for fun." Actually, she did have a hobby but it was a bit too embarrassing to admit on the first time they went out together. "What about you?"

Steve set down his glass and scratched the back of his neck, flushing slightly, "Well, I, um, draw."

"Really?" Emily asked, her voice rising in surprise. Steve smiled shyly.

"Before the War, I was studying the fine arts in college."

"Huh, I wouldn't have expected that," Em grinned. "You'll have to show me your work sometime."

"It's not that good."

"I'm sure it's better than you think." When they fell into silence again, it was less uncomfortable this time.

"So is your family still in Massachusetts?" he asked. Emily, who had been looking around the restaurant, couldn't help but smile again. It was nice to know that he recalled the little fact from a previous conversation.

"Mom and Dad are. Tucker, my older brother, and his wife Lauren moved to Vermont."

"And he's the one with…Jessica?" Emily laughed and rummaged in her purse, pulling out her wallet and handing it to him. He looked at the pictures and shook his head. Emily, who had much longer hair, had her arm around a younger girl who was sticking her tongue out at the family. "That would be her before she hit the terrible teens. The next one," he flipped the picture and saw a family shot, "is right after Tuck and Lauren adopted Brandon and Mackenzie." She pointed to the boy and girl. "Jack," she pointed to another, "wasn't too happy that he had a new big brother, but he's getting over it."

"Why wasn't he happy?" Steve asked, watching Emily. She had lit up talking about her family.

"He didn't want someone else to boss him around. But Brandon is such a sweetheart. He was born deaf, so the whole family learned sign language."

"Did you?"

"I'm not good," she said. He watched as her hold up her pinky, put her right thumb to her mouth and move it forward, and then lift her hand to her lips and move it down, flipping it so that the palm was down. "I think that was right."

"I'm impressed." Emily smirked and flipped the picture. This one was of her, her brother, and an older couple that he assumed was her parents. They were older than he thought they would be. She seemed to realize this and laughed.

"I was a late in life surprise. What about your family?" She slipped the wallet back into her purse just as Victor reappeared with their dishes. Steve and Emily both paused and thanked him before digging into their food. Emily had to gently prod Steve to get him to answer her question.

"It was just me and my parents. Dad was in the Army, the 107th, and Mom was a nurse." Emily paused in cutting her asparagus and looked at her plate, unable to meet his eyes.

"We're they…did they see you after?"

"No. They passed before I did it," he answered. Emily nodded, taking a bite of the vegetable.

"How is everything?" Victor asked, appearing at Emily's elbow.

"Great," Steve answered, his eyes shooting to Emily who nodded and pressed her napkin to her lips.

"Really good," she answered. Victor motioned to her nearly empty wine glass.

"Would you like another glass?"

"Please." He took the glass and walked away. "Why is it that waiters always show up right after you've taken a bite?" Steve laughed.

"Some things haven't changed." Emily grinned as Victor set the wine in front of her and refilled Steve's water. The two chatted amiably over their dinner, with Steve opening up about his childhood in Brooklyn. She found it hard to believe that he was beat up so often until he reminded her that he hadn't always been in the best physical shape. Tactfully, he'd avoided discussing Dr. Erskine.

When Emily pushed her plate away and sat back, pressing a hand to her stomach, Steve raised an eyebrow. "I'm full," she declared.

"You're not going to finish that?" he pointed to rest of the food on her plate. Unlike her, Steve had finished his meal.

"I can't eat another bite."

"You shouldn't waste it."

"I don't want to carry it to the theater." Steve shook his head and held out his hand for the plate. Emily looked surprised as he scraped off the half of a chicken breast onto his plate and handed it back.

"My mother raised me not to waste food," he said upon seeing her look. "With the Depression and everything…" Emily's mouth formed into an 'O' and nodded as she sipped her wine. After Steve had polished off the rest of her meal, Victor appeared and inadvertently caused an argument.

"Will this be on one bill or separate?"

"Separate," Emily answered.

"One bill," Steve said. The two looked at one another as Victor shifted awkwardly.

"Separate," Emily stated again. "You're not paying for my dinner."

"One bill," Steve overrode her. "A gentleman always pays for the woman's dinner." Emily shook her head again and turned to Victor.

"Separate please." Steve looked like he was going to put up a fight but Victor scurried off after seeing the look Emily gave him.

"Emily-"

"No," she cut him off. "I appreciate the gesture, but really, it's not necessary." Having a man buy her dinner was awkward. Part of her always felt like had to do something afterwards, that she owed him. After digging in her purse, she withdrew her check card and was ready to throw it at Victor if Steve made any attempt at paying her bill.

"You got the tickets, it's the least I can do."

"Well, someone gave them to me, so we're still even." When Victor appeared, Emily handed him the card quickly, ignoring the exasperated look Steve gave her. After looking over his check, he handed over a few bills. Emily finished the last of her wine just as he returned with her card and Steve's change, bidding them both a good night. The soldier watched as she signed her name and placed the card back in her wallet. "Ready?"

"If you are." Emily nodded and stood up, and the two made their way out of the restaurant. "So that thing you gave him, that acts as money?"

"What? Oh, the card? Yeah, it's attached to my bank account," she nodded. Steve took the lead as they walked down the street towards the Gershwin together. Although the theater was 'new' (to him at least), he still knew Broadway better than she did. "I just swipe it and they take the money out of my account. Most people don't carry cash anymore."

"Oh. The S.H.I.E.L.D. accountant gave me one but I don't know what to do with it."

"When'd you meet with an accountant?" Emily asked, looking up at him.

"Last week. They said it wasn't smart to give me my back pay in cash." Emily's eyebrows shot up when she realized that he would have been given 67 years of military back pay. Steve smiled when he saw the astonished look on her face. "I can afford to buy a dame dinner, even if it _is_ more expensive than I remember." Emily flushed and laughed.

"I'm not going to apologize for paying my own way. It's something we modern women do." Steve laughed again and they walked in silence until getting to the theater. After she handed over the tickets and they found their seats (which were surprisingly very good), she asked him a question. "So do you know the Wizard of Oz story?"

Steve quirked an eyebrow and smirked, "It came out in '39. Of course I saw it." Emily blushed and bit her lip to stop from smiling. She was getting excited to see the show, _finally_.

"I'm not a huge fan of it," she said in an offhand remark.

"Why not?" he asked, sounding somewhat offended. Emily pulled her gaze away from the stage and met his shocked blue eyes.

"Well, once you've heard the political allegory, it's kind of hard to enjoy." Steve asked her to explain, still looking somewhat unconvinced when she finished explaining the undercurrent of monetary policy (gold standard vs. the Free Silver party) in the book.

"Sometimes you just need to enjoy the story for what it is," he told her, "and not look for a deeper meaning. But if you don't like the Wizard of Oz, why did you want to see this?" Steve motioned to the stage.

"Because it's _Wicked_!" she said excitedly. "The music is amazing. I just wish we could have come when the original cast was still here." Steve rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. Not long after, he excused himself. Emily used the time to quickly look in her compact mirror and fix her make-up. He returned about fifteen minutes later.

"Here," he said, handing her a souvenir program.

"Steve," she sighed, "you didn't have to." He shook his head and settled back into his seat. Emily huffed and leaned onto the armrest, flicking through the pages. Steve watched, occasionally asking a question, until the lights went down. She quickly shut the program and set it in her lap. "Here we go," she whispered excitedly. Steve grinned.

OOO

"Wow," Emily laughed as they spilled out onto the street. "That was amazing!"

"It was good," Steve agreed, unable to stop himself from smiling.

"Don't lie, it was more than 'good'."

"Fine, it was really good." Emily shook her head and fell in step with him as they walked away from the theater.

In all honesty, Steve admitted to himself that it had been amazing. The effects, the music…wow. He'd especially liked the song where the Wizard had told Elphaba that people believed all sorts of lies and called it history. Steve hadn't been able to resist turning to Emily and smirking; she had rolled her eyes in response.

"Are you in any particular hurry to get back?" Em asked, looking up at Steve. He shook his head. "Do you want to go get a drink?"

"Sure." They wandered until they found a promising looking bar. Unable to find a table, they had settled in the back and sipped their drinks, Emily having another glass of wine and Steve having a beer. The two discussed the play for a while longer, finally relaxed in one another's company. When the conversation had lulled, Steve asked something that had been on the tip of his tongue all night. "Did your fella give you that?"

Emily furrowed her eyebrows and looked confused for a moment until Steve nodded to her hand. She looked down, as if surprised to see herself fiddling with her locket. "Yes," she said shortly before taking another sip of her wine.

"Is he coming here anytime soon?" Immediately he regretted asking. Emily's eyes, which had been sparkling with excitement, lost their glimmer.

"No. He died a few years ago."

"Oh," Steve said. "I'm sorry." She waved off his condolences and downed the rest of her drink. Em excused herself and went to get another drink. When he'd asked what it was upon her return, she explained that it was a Tequila Sunrise. He'd grimaced when he'd taken the sip she offered, making her laugh.

The noise in the bar had risen considerably, so when she spoke next, he had to lean down to hear her. "You've never had tequila before?" Steve shook his head, trying to ignore his body's reaction to her warm breath on his neck. She gave him a scandalized look before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bar. He felt hot under the collar at the unexpected touch. Before he could stop her, Emily had leaned over to talk to the bartender. Protectively, he stood behind her, blocking any unwanted stares the action might have garnered. He shot a pointed look at two men who watched her closely.

"Here," she said, tapping him on the shoulder and handing him a shot glass filled with gold colored liquid. Steve watched as she licked her left hand and sprinkled salt on it before handing him the shaker. "Ok, it's salt, shot, lime," Em explained, plucking one of the lime slices from the napkin next to her. When Steve didn't move, she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Come on."

"Fine, fine." Steve felt silly but smiled when Emily tapped glasses with him.

"One," she counted off, "two…three!" Emily quickly did the shot, grimacing and shaking her head when it was done. Steve, however, just grimaced.

"Ugh," he groaned. Emily laughed and thanked the bartender before wiping her hand on napkin he handed her.

"Congrats on your first tequila shot!" she grinned as they made their way back to their spot.

"And my last," he assured her, taking a sip of his beer. She bit her lip and looked at his glass.

"Crap. That probably wasn't a great idea." He asked her why and she said something about having beer before liquor making him sick.

"Don't worry," he said, "I can't get drunk." Emily's mouth actually fell open and she shook her head vigorously (apparently tequila hit her very quickly).

"No way! That sounds like a challenge."

"It won't work. My metabolism is four times faster than normal."

"My grandfather really screwed you over, didn't he?" Steve laughed; Emily apparently hadn't caught that she'd just called Erskine her grandfather.

"Small sacrifice." Her brown eyes met his and she seemed to be debating asking him something. After a moment, she motioned for him to lean down.

"Why'd you do it?" Steve hadn't been expecting the question. He looked around the bar and realized it wasn't the place to have the conversation.

"Later," he whispered in her ear. Emily frowned and looked at her drink, which was half full, then at his beer, which was nearly empty. After taking a breath, she took a deep drink and ignored Steve's inquisitive look. It had been a while since she'd chugged a drink, but she wanted answers. Preferably before the liquid courage tapered off.

"Let's get out of here," she said, placing the now empty glass on the short table beside her. Steve shook his head and finished the last few sips of his beer and set the glass beside hers. She held his hand again as they walked through the crowd, making sure they didn't lose each other.

"Where to?" he asked when they emerged onto the street.

OOO

Steve flicked on the lights and stood back to let Emily walk in before him. She smiled over her should at him while walking towards the boxing ring. He watched as she set her purse and program before sliding between the ropes. "Why'd you do it?" Em asked.

"It was my shot to get over there," Steve replied, walking towards her. He folded his jacket and set it next to her things before undoing his tie. Emily narrowed her eyes and huffed.

"That's it? No ulterior motives?" he chuckled at her slightly slurred words and shook his head. "Really? None?"

"I wanted to do my part." Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at her. "Why'd you take the job at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Hum…" Emily said, crossing her arms on the top rope and looking down at him. "I could tell you that it was all down to curiosity. Here comes this guy straight out of Men In Black whose offering me a job with information that I wasn't able to find during my _very_ extensive research. And that's part of it," she assured him with a wink. "But it's mostly because, well, I guess it's because I was stuck."

"Stuck?" his voice was colored with confusion; he didn't understand the reference but assumed it was either Coulson or Fury she was talking about. He watched as she plucked the locket off of her chest and play with it.

"I wasn't going anywhere. I would have been stuck at the same university, doing the same thing I'd been doing for five years, living in the same apartment that I'd shared with Garrett, seeing all of our friends giving me pitying looks…so why not? It's a year. Sure I might not be able to do anything with what I find out, but hell, I'd know, right? Does that make sense?" she asked. Steve nodded. He knew what it was to be stuck. Emily watched him for a minute, chewing her bottom lip.

"Can I ask how he died?"

"IED. Roadside bomb," she added, seeing the confused look her gave her. Knowing that she was on the verge of becoming a weepy drunk (god, when had she become such a light-weight?), Emily straightened up. "So, are you going to show me any fancy boxing moves, Captain America?"

For the next hour, Steve did just as she asked. He laughed and held the punching bag still as she landed feeble punches after claiming that she'd gone to kickboxing, whatever that was, before admitting it was only for one class. He's shown her how to throw a punch and promised to teach her some self-defense.

Steve sat up and looked at Emily, who'd fallen asleep while they were talking. Chuckling, he retrieved his jacket and draped it over her before settling back down, further away from her than he had been before. Folding his arms behind his head, he looked up at the ceiling and realized that, for the first time since waking up, he was genuinely happy.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So there you go! A non-angst Steve and Emily chapter. I have to tell you, I was grinning like an idiot writing it. I debated leaving out the first section, with Emily and Dr. Thompson, due to the length of the chapter but it's important in setting up the next few chapters. And if Thompson didn't give her the tickets, who did? It's a mystery!

Happy 4th of July for those who are celebrating. Almost as important, Happy Birthday to our favorite Avenger, Captain Steve Rogers!

As always, thank you for your continued support, and let me know what you think =D


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Steve, like Emily, had dozed off, but it hadn't lasted long. He'd woken up, breathing heavily, trying to ward off the memories that had assaulted him. Knowing that trying to sleep again would only make them come back, he sat up and looked over at Emily. She was still asleep, lying on her side with her head resting on one arm and her other hand curled by her face. A hint of a smile played on his lips as he stood up and walked to her, and adjusted his jacket so that it covered her.

After climbing out of the boxing ring, Steve unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the ropes before swinging his arms and stretching. As he walked further from Emily, however, he felt something scraping his thigh. Confused, he reached into his pocket and pulled out her ring. She'd asked him to hold it when he'd been wrapping her hands before he'd let her at the punching bag.

It was white gold with three square diamonds. Steve held it up and, through it, could see Emily. He wondered for a moment if her guy, Garrett, had given her this, too. It wasn't his business, he decided, walking back towards her. Steve put it within her reach and vaulted the boxing ring ropes, landing lightly on his feet. Within seconds, he'd started his set of push-ups.

OOO

Emily furrowed her eyebrows and tried to block out the light that was pressing against her eyes. She pulled the blanket over her head and frowned at the texture. The smell of leather, aftershave, sweat, and soap filled her nose, as her ears recognized the thudding and huffing going on behind her. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and stretched, feeling her back popping slightly.

Steve's jacket slid to her lap as she sat up and looked around. It was a bit chilly in the gym, so she slipped on the jacket, fighting back a smirk when the sleeve cuffs went far past her hands. She shook them off when she spotted her ring lying next to her. Quickly, Emily put it on, momentarily fumbling as she switched it from her left hand to her right.

"Morning," she said once she'd arranged herself. Steve turned from the punching bag and saw her leaning against the ropes.

"Morning. I didn't wake you, did I?" Emily shook her head.

"Mind if I borrow your jacket a little longer? It's kind of cold in here."

"It's fine." Her eyes scanned his face, then the sweat stains on his undershirt.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Enough. Did you sleep alright?"

"It's not the most comfortable mattress," she smiled, tapping her foot on the floor, "but it'll do in a pinch." Steve chuckled and walked over to her, leaning on the lower rope and looking up at her.

"We won't make it a habit to stay here."

"Deal," she agreed.

"Good," a third voice chimed in. "Because your tail wasn't too pleased having to stay outside all night." Emily and Steve both turned to see Carter Falsworth striding in, holding a Starbucks cup in one hand and twirling his keys in the other. "Morning, Doll Face," he grinned upon seeing Emily.

"Really?" she scowled. "Enough with the nicknames."

"Wasn't one of my best, I agree. Accept this hot chocolate as an apology?" As he joined them at the platform, he held up the cup to Emily and nodded to Steve. "Captain."

"Falsworth," Steve replied, watching as Emily plucked the cup from his hand and looked at the writing on the side.

"God, seriously? How did you know I like hazelnut hot chocolate?"

"Are you going to continue asking the same question every time I do something nice for you?" he countered. Steve watched the exchange and raised an eyebrow at Emily, as if asking if she was okay with it.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm your ride back to HQ. Or would you like to walk?"

"There's this thing called taxis. Or the subway."

"You wound me with your ingratitude, Dr. Harthorn. Has she told you," Carter turned to Steve, ignoring the pointed look Emily was giving him, "that she flipped off our beloved Director? I'll warn you off her, Rogers, she's got a temper."

"I can handle it," Steve replied.

"I'm sure you can. Now, would you like the ride or not?"

"How are you so infuriating so early in the morning?" Emily asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Some of us have been awake for hours," Carter shrugged, his eyes darting to Steve. She shook her head and put the cup on the floor before slipping between the ropes, taking Steve's offered hand, and hopping to the ground.

"Don't touch my hot chocolate," she warned before retreating to the locker room, purse in hand.

"She's a spit fire, isn't she?" Carter smirked, leaning against the platform.

"If you get her riled up," Steve agreed, mimicking his movement. "Thanks for keeping the tail at bay last night." Carter waved off the thanks. Steve had seen the man keeping a discrete distance most of the night and, instead of pointing him out to Emily, he had kept her distracted.

"You both deserved a night off after…everything." Both men continued to look towards the locker room rather than at each other. Their previous conversation hung heavily over them.

"How's James?" Steve finally asked. The corner of Carter's mouth twitched.

"He's doing better. Grand- Peggy's passing hit him hard, but he's recovering." Steve's jaw clenched but he nodded. "I'm off to London later today to see him."

"Pass along my regards, will you?"

"Of course. Once I tell Grandfather about you being back, and all." Steve turned and looked at the agent.

"He doesn't know?"

"It's not the kind of news you share over the phone," Carter replied, meeting Steve's gaze. "And I haven't had the opportunity to get back since. Investigating our dear Emily interrupted my vacation in the south of France, and I'm going to make up the time at home."

"Why are you so interested in her?" Steve asked the question that had been bothering him. To his surprise, Carter chuckled.

"I'm upholding a promise. Gra – Peggy," he caught himself again. "She wanted Uncle Brian, Sharon, and I to keep tabs on Emily's family, to make sure that they were safe. Like I said before, she was friends with Erskine." Carter shrugged, "Dugan used to do it before he retired. And with Uncle Brian dead and Sharon in the field…" The answer was surprising.

"Has there been trouble?"

"A few years back, the military had a scientist who was trying to recreate the program. Dugan had a hell of a time keeping Ross away from the family," Carter shook his head. "They're all hoping that someone in her family will be able to unlock the secret. But, as none have shown an aptitude in science," he shrugged again, "they're safe for the time being. Besides," Carter smirked, "she's fun to taunt."

Steve couldn't help but smirk as well. Some of the frostiness he'd felt towards the agent next to him faded. Maybe it's because he somewhat reminded him of Bucky. And a good bit of guilt helped; it wasn't Carter's fault that Peggy had married James. "Watch this," Carter chuckled as Emily re-emerged, having freshened up some. He lifted the coffee cup to his mouth.

"So your taking back your apology drink?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'd forgotten your edict. Will breakfast make up for my egregious error?"

"She doesn't like people buying her meals," Steve said, watching as Emily's face reddened as she looked between them.

"Oh, so it's two against one now? I have a brother and cousins, I know how this goes."

"Come along, poppet. I believe I owe you breakfast," Carter grinned, pushing off the ring.

"Ugh!" Emily groaned in frustration as Carter escorted her towards the door. Steve laughed and gathered his things, and Emily's _Wicked_ program, before following them out.

OOO

"Thank you for the ride," Emily said stiffly as she exited the car. Steve had jumped out quickly and opened the door for her, still smirking at the constant stream of teasing Carter had kept up during their short drive back. Emily had insisted that they return to S.H.I.E.L.D. because she didn't want to look like she was "doing the walk of shame". He'd been confused by the statement, but Carter had roared with laughter.

"And going into a building full of agents is preferable to a diner of people that don't know you?" The silence from the back seat had been deafening. Carter assured her that he would be at her door in an hour to take her to breakfast, and that Steve was more than welcome to join.

So, an hour later, Carter was pounding on Emily's door with Steve by his side. "Emily Rose Harthorn!"

"Stalker!" she yelled back.

"Spy," he shot back. Steve raised an eyebrow when Carter dug a set of metal tools from his pocket and knelt down to examine the doorknob. With obvious adeptness, he began picking the lock.

"I don't think she's going to like that," he warned.

"What she likes be damned. This is too much fun." Steve shook his head and sighed as Carter pushed the door open.

"What the hell!" Emily screeched, jumping up from her spot at the desk.

"It's been an hour," Carter smirked, looking at his watch. "I believe we have breakfast plans."

OOO

After Carter had dragged Emily from her room, the three walked to a nearby diner. While Carter held a conversation with himself, Steve watched as Emily rolled her shoulders and neck.

"You okay?" he asked. Carter stopped talking and turned to Emily, who stopped in an instant.

"Fine. Just a bit sore."

"I give excellent back rubs," the agent smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Keep your hands to yourself." Steve watched the exchange with a smirk; he found it interesting how Carter could reduce the intelligent woman to a bickering teenager in a few minutes. When Carter reached out to touch Emily, she swatted his hand away and glared.

"Children," Steve sighed, placing himself between the two. Emily rolled her eyes when Carter chuckled. The three walked in silence until they arrived at the diner.

Thankfully, Steve decided to sit next to Emily in the booth, rather than allow them to fight throughout breakfast. The waitress was prompt in taking their orders and returning with a pot of coffee.

"Thanks," Emily said as Steve poured her a cup. Steve nodded and offered it to Carter who declined. The two men began talking about something, Emily wasn't quite sure as she was staring out the window, chin in hand, thinking about the phone call she'd placed just before coming here.

Last night had worried her. She'd known that Steve was having trouble sleeping, but she hadn't realized how much. Emily had woken up quite a few times throughout the night and found Steve exercising every time. Once, she would have sworn, she'd seen him wiping tears from his face.

Dr. Thompson had assured her that she'd done the right thing bringing it to his attention. He would speak to Steve about it when they met on Monday.

"-the Dodgers."

"The LA Dodgers? Why them?"

"No, the Brooklyn Dodgers," Steve frowned. Em turned back, hearing the confusion in his voice.

"The only Dodgers in professional baseball, if I'm not mistaken, are in Los Angeles." Carter looked to Emily for confirmation, as did Steve. She nodded and frowned at the sad expression that Steve had.

"I didn't realize they'd been a New York team," she said. Steve looked down at his coffee cup and nodded.

"I used to go to the games with my dad." Carter looked at Emily, his apology for bringing up the subject apparent. When she reached to touch Steve's arm, the waitress appeared.

"Here we go," the older woman said, setting the plates in front of the three. Emily quickly withdrew her hand and thanked the woman as she was handed her French toast. "Will you be needing anything else?" When they all shook their heads, the two men dug in while Emily pushed her food around the plate.

"You're quiet," Carter pointed out. Emily looked up and sighed.

"I'm tired, that's all."

"You slept, though," Steve frowned.

"I'm always tired after drinking," she said quietly.

"And here I was hoping for some verbal sparring before heading home. I guess I'll just have to wait until I get back."

"You're leaving?"

"In the next few hours," the Brit said after checking his watch. "Business to attend to, and all that." Emily nodded and pushed her plate away, her stomach in knots. Steve looked at it for a second before pushing it back towards her.

"Sounds like fun," she said, ignoring the plate. "I've only been to England once."

"Well, you'll just have to come again. You both can be guests at the Manor." Steve turned from his examination of Emily and quirked an eyebrow; he didn't believe that he'd ever be comfortable staying in the house Peggy had shared with Falsworth.

"I might just take you up on that." Carter grinned and nodded to her food.

"That's going to get cold." Emily rolled her eyes at both of them and picked up her fork, taking a bite of the syrup covered bread.

"Happy?"

Both Carter and Steve had pestered her to eat, finally leaving her alone when she said that she'd take it back to eat later, that she just wasn't feeling so well after the tequila the night before. When she hadn't requested a carry away box from the waitress, Carter did. Steve had made sure that every bit had been put in it.

"Be back in a moment," Carter excused himself as they waited for the bills.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Steve asked, his eyes scanning Emily's face.

"For the millionth time, I'm fine," she sighed. He shook his head and looked past her out the window. He'd long ago come to the realization that women were complicated and confusing, and Emily's behavior was just reinstating that fact.

"Ready?" Carter asked a few minutes later.

"Just waiting for the bills, still," Emily said. He grinned like the cat that got the cream.

"Oh, I've taken care of them already."

"That's not-"

"_Carter_-"

The agent held up his hand to silence them. "No arguments. I'm sure you'll do the same for me in the future. Now, I've got to dash or I'll miss my flight."

"How long are you going to be gone?" Emily asked.

"Missing me already, love?" He laughed when she scowled. "I'm not entirely sure. But believe me, I'll keep in touch." Steve slid out of the booth and held out his hand.

"Have a safe trip. And thanks for the meal."

"My pleasure, Captain," Carter replied, shaking his hand.

"Steve," he smiled.

"Steve," repeated Carter. When Emily attempted to shake his hand however, he crushed her to his chest. "Goodbye, my darling Emily. I hope you're in a better mood when I get back."

"Go take care of your business and leave me alone. And thanks for breakfast," she smirked. To her surprise, and Steve's, Carter pressed a quick kiss to her temple before darting out the door. They watched as he flagged a cab and disappeared.

"Well that was odd," Emily said finally. Steve looked down at her and nodded before grabbing her boxed up breakfast from the table.

"Ready?" She nodded and swung her purse onto her arm, thanking Steve as he held the door open for her.

"We're making a stop on the way back," she said.

OOO

Emily had gone straight to her room when they'd gotten back to S.H.I.E.L.D., but Steve had sat at his desk, looking at what Emily had made him purchase. The black bound notebook was open to a blank page, and the drawing pencils were lined up by his right hand. He hesitated a second before picking one up, and his hand hovered over the paper.

This, at least, was something that hadn't changed.

OOO

"Ah, Captain," Dr. Thompson said, looking up from his book as Steve entered. "Right on time."

"Doctor," Steve said, striding across the room and shaking Thompson's hand. The Brit smiled and motioned for Steve to take a seat on the couch before closing his book and setting it on the coffee table between them. They passed a few minutes chatting, with _Wicked _coming up a few times.

"Now, I would like to continue our discussion about your sleeping patterns."

"I'm sleeping just fine, Doc," Steve said quickly, leaning back and crossing his arms tightly across his chest. He felt himself growing angry at the continued pressure to talk. It wasn't his business what went on when Steve tried to sleep.

"You see, that right there tells me that you're not being entirely honest," Thompson sighed. "Your body language tells that you're uncomfortable with the conversation. The dark circles under your eyes are another tell-tale sign."

"I'm fine," Steve clenched his jaw. His body was going hot, and his breathing grew quicker.

"Have you been dreaming about your crash? Or perhaps your friends? There are tools that I can teach you to help you with this. Dream rehearsal, for instance-" Steve jumped to his feet and began to pace, unexplained adrenaline coursing through his veins. Thompson had tensed slightly; he remember how Roger's had thrown two agent through a wall when he'd awoken. "If you were to tell me what these nightmares are about, I could help you-"

"I'm not having nightmares."

"I'm afraid I don't believe you. Concerned parties have brought to my attention your nightly wanderings. While your current outlet, physical exertion, seems to work, you and I both know that it is merely a stop gap."

"'Concerned parties'?" Steve asked, his voice taunt. "Emily?"

"Among others," Thompson acknowledged. Steve felt a stab of betrayal. Emily. She'd gone to Thompson rather than spoken to him about it. He could have avoided all of this if she'd just come to him. He could have_ made_ her see that he was all right. A few restless nights didn't mean that anything was wrong.

"I don't need their concern. I'm fine."

"You may keep saying the word, Captain, but I'm afraid that you are terribly wrong in this instance. This is something that we need to get under some semblance of control before you leave on your trip."

"Trip?" Steve paused in his pacing. No one had mentioned anything to him about going somewhere.

"That is not out main concern at the moment," Thompson waved off the question. "Lack of sleep is detrimental to your health, Rogers. I really must insist that you tell me, honestly, what has been keeping you awake."

"Nothing!" Steve snapped, hands clenching into fists. "I'm fine!" And with that, he stormed to the door, threw it open, and strode away from the office.

OOO

Emily was looking at apartments online when she jumped the loud pounding on her door. A glance at the time gave her a pretty good idea who it was. After taking a deep breath, setting her glasses on the desk, and steeling herself for the confrontation, Em walked to the door and opened it.

Steve glowered, arms stretched out so that his hands rested on their doorframe, blocking the hallway. She felt a momentary flicker of fear before squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes?"

"I don't need your help. I don't need Thompson's help. I'm fine."

"Yes, and this is certainly showing that." She thought she heard the wood popping as his grip tightened. Rather than backing down, she raised an eyebrow and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze.

"Leave me alone." Emily shook her head.

"No. I know you're from the generation where men don't discuss their feelings, but you need to, Steve. This," she motioned to his angry stance, "isn't you."

"You don't know me. Just because you've read about me doesn't mean you know anything."

"I know that the kid who played stickball in Brooklyn would be pretty damn ashamed of your behavior right now." A few specks of wood dust drifted to the floor, but the statement seemed to register with him for a moment. "You've done so much already, why won't you let us help?" Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his hand, but Steve pushed off the frame, out of her reach.

Steve pressed his lips into a thin line, as it trying to stop himself from saying something. "Just leave me alone, Dr. Harthorn," he snapped before stalking down the hall. Emily watched him retreat and, when he slammed the door to his room, jumped at the noise.

She let out a shaky breath before shutting her door against the curious stares of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who shared their hallway. Her knees were shaking badly as she leaned against the door and sank to the floor, head in her hands.

OOO

_Emily threw the car in Park and sprinted towards the Emergency Room, not even bothering to turn off the headlights. Adrenaline carried her, and she knew that if she gave herself a moment to think, she'd collapse. It took a few minutes to locate a nurse who led her to the examination room. _

"_Emily," Tom, Garrett's First Shirt, said, pushing off the wall. "He's okay."_

"_Where is he?" she demanded, her eyes wide with panic. _

"_They're looking him over now. He wrapped the car around a tree." _

"_Oh my god," she breathed, her body trembling as tears sprang to her eyes. Tom pulled her into a hug and assured her that he'd be fine. "I was sleeping at the office and I didn't hear my phone," she said, her voice shaking. "I should have been there, I could have stopped him."_

"_There's nothing you could have done," Tom said soothingly, rubbing her back. _

_Ten minutes later, the doctor exited the room. "You can see him now," he said, his voice tight. "He's lucky. He'll be sore for a few days, but he's going to be fine." _

"_Thank you," Tom said, shaking the man's hand. Emily nodded before darting into the room._

"_Baby!" Garrett grinned. The pain medication they'd given him had apparently made him loopy. "You shoulda seen it. The car's a mess!"_

"_Shut up," she ordered, storming over to him. "Shut the fuck up."_

"_Touchy," Garr smirked, reaching for her hand; Emily pulled it out of his reach._

"_You smell like a bar."_

"_I only had a few," he shrugged before grimacing. An angry red line crossed diagonally across his bare chest and a few scratches decorated his face. She shook her head and wiped at her tears with shaking hands. The dark bruises under his eyes reminded her of how long it'd been since he'd slept._

"_I can't do this anymore, Garrett, I really can't. I stay up half the night worrying about you when you won't do anything to help yourself."_

"_I don't need help," he stated before holding his arms out for her. "Come on, babe, I'm fine! A bit banged up, but I'm good." Emily let out a sob and walked into his embrace. She smoothed back his black hair and stroked is forehead before planting a kiss there._

"_I'm done," she said, meeting his hazy green eyes. "Don't come home until you get some help." _

"_Emmie, baby," Garrett groaned, "I told you, I'm fine."_

"_Next time you end up in a ditch," she said, walking to the door before she lost her nerve, "don't bother calling." _

"_Emily!" Garrett yelled as she shut the door. "Emily!" _

"_-Asleep at the wheel," the doctor was saying as she stepped into the hall._

"_Em?" Tom asked as she walked away, arms wrapped tightly around herself._

"_He's all yours."_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Major, major thanks to blown-transistor for the assistance with this chapter (emotional torture continues!).

So yes, some fluffy with the angst. While Steve's session with Dr. Thompson may seem out of character, two big signs of PTSD are outbursts and avoidance, both of which he exhibits in that part. Yes, this is a shameless attempt to explain my plot choices.

Also, thank you for your support, but I have to say, I don't think I'll be posting 3 chapters in a week again. It was too much work! Lol, but I am grateful for all of you who are taking time to read, favorite, subscribe, and review this. Thank you, thank you, thank you! And as always, let me know what you think!


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Emily and Steve were avoiding one another again. Whenever he saw her, Emily thought of the saying 'If looks could kill'. And part of her knew that she deserved the treatment. He had trusted her, and, in his eyes, she'd betrayed that. But she knew what she'd done was the right thing, and that gave her the conviction to meet his angry gaze.

The last few days of April passed, and Coulson and Sitwell had reappeared without explanation for their extended absence. Fury had presumably returned to wherever he spent his time, because no one had seen him for quite a while. Carter had returned briefly and tried to bridge the gap between Steve and Emily, but had been called away to a mission before making much progress.

After translating the original journal that Carter had brought to her at the hotel, Emily sought out Coulson. "Dr. Harthorn," he said when she pushed the door open to his office. He stood up, closing the folder on his desk, and motioned for her to sit in one of the empty chairs. "What can I do for you today?"

"Well," she said, placing the journal and manila folder on her knees, "I was wondering if you knew anyone I could speak to about Dr. Erskine's formula. I've finished translating this journal, but I honestly have no idea what he was talking about for most of it."

"I'm sure someone in our Research and Development department would be able to help you," Coulson nodded.

"Great! Also, this is a copy of the paper I intend to present next month at my conference."

Coulson held out his hand for the folder, which contained a stack of clipped papers and flicked through it. "We'll have someone look through it and see if anything needs to be changed."

"I wrote it before all of this, so there should be much, if anything," Emily assured him. "And I was wondering if you could do me a favor." She pulled a piece of notebook paper out from under the cover of the journal and looked at it for a moment. "I came across this in my translation, and I think Captain Rogers would like to see it. But, seeing as how he's angry with me, I don't think giving this to him in person is such a good idea."

"I'll see that he gets it," he assured her. Emily smiled and passed it across the desk. "May I?" When she nodded, he opened the paper and scanned it quickly. The corner of his mouth twitched and he refolded it. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it. Would you like me to show you to the R&D lab?"

"Please." The two went down to the basement level. Coulson had heard of her evening with General Sanders, and her subsequent knowledge of Erskine, and apologized for it coming out that way.

"The General's been attempting to contact you and Captain Rogers," he said offhandedly. His eyes shot to her to see her reaction to the news. "We've been running interference."

"Thank god," she sighed, "I really don't want to see that man ever again."

"We'll try to keep it that way," he smirked. When they finally reached the R&D lab, he paused to swipe his ID badge and held the door open for it before calling out, "Dr. Flemming?"

"Yes? Ouch! Just a second," a male voice called, followed by a thud and crash. Emily raised an eyebrow and looked at Coulson who leaned towards her.

"He just graduated from Cal Tech with doctorates in Chemistry and Engineering."

"Oh," she replied. The man that walked towards them, however, was not what she was expecting: he looked really young, younger than she. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with Rancid written across the chest, with a white lab coat over it. His right eyebrow was pierced, and a tattoo snaked out of the collar of his shirt. Untidy brown hair fell into his dark eyes.

"What's up?" he asked, leaning against the lab table and looking between Coulson and Emily.

"Dr. Flemming, this is Dr. Harthorn, Erskine's granddaughter."

"Nice to meet you," Emily said, holding out her hand to shake his. He looked at it and wrung his hands before shoving them in his pockets. She raised an eyebrow and lowered her hand.

"She was wondering if you might help her understand her grandfather's formula," the agent continued as if nothing had happened.

"Dude, no one understands it. Last guy that tried it ended up a freak."

"I've got his notes translated," Emily sighed, "I just don't do science." Flemming laughed.

"Ironic, huh? One of the greatest scientists ever, and his family sucks at science. I mean, the dude was messing with codons before Watson and Cricket 'discovered' the DNA structure."

"What?" Emily said.

"Yeah. I mean, his experiments started in the 30's, right? Watson and Cricket didn't do theirs until the 50's. But no one could know what the SSR was doing, because the whole 'it's classified' thing. And the whole being captured by Nazis and forced to do research for them."

"Huh," said Emily. This man (boy, was probably the better term for him), was spewing out facts about her family that she'd just discovered herself, as if it was common knowledge. Coulson looked at her and shook his head.

"She just needs the basics, Flemming."

"Well, that's all we have, isn't it? Erskine didn't write the entire thing down."

"He didn't?" Emily asked.

"Psh, would you have?" Flemming rolled his eyes. "After what Johann Schmidt did to himself, it's not the kind of information you'd leave laying around, even if it would have helped after he was killed."

"Well, I've got paperwork to get to," Coulson said. "I'll make sure that Rogers gets this," he added, placing a hand over his internal jacket pocket when he'd placed her translation.

"Thanks," she said wearily, somewhat unwilling to be left in the company of this Dr. Flemming.

"You know, if Erskine would have lived, I'm pretty sure that your family would be as rich as the Starks now," Flemming said contemplatively as Coulson abandon her. "Those two together, damn, could you imagine? Just look what they did to Captain Rogers!"

OOO

It was an excruciating hour and a half in the lab before Emily requested a break for lunch. Her head was spinning with the information that Dr. Flemming, or Alex the eighteen-year-old Boy Wonder as she now thought of him, had given her. She had been forcefully reminded why she'd had to take remedial chemistry during sophomore year's summer school: this crap just didn't make sense. History and English were her forte, and she was damn well proud of it.

Unfortunately, Alex didn't understand that her request for a lunch break was meant to be a solo affair. He prattled on about Erskine's work as they rode the elevator together, walked to the cafeteria, and even through the line. While she'd gotten a salad and water (really, being around all of these stick figure women was a hit to the ego, and she made a mental note to make use of the gym), he'd loaded his tray with a cheeseburger, fries, a slice of chocolate cake, and a giant soda. Em forced herself not to roll her eyes; the college freshman she'd taught had had similar eating habits.

"So we think that he might have tweaked the Vita-rays. Dr. Banner, that physicist at Culver University, thought that it was used in conjunction with gamma rays, but he ended screwing himself up real bad."

"Oh?" Emily said before he could launch into another long-winded monolog about something she didn't understand. She vaguely remembered an incident at Culver University a few years before.

"Yeah. Remember that thing that tore up the city a few years back?" Emily poured dressing over her salad and took a bite, thinking about the news coverage of Harlem being destroyed by some unknown beast. "That'd be Dr. Banner. Dude has major anger management issues."

"You're kidding, right?" Emily's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into her hair.

"Hell no, I'm not kidding," he grinned, taking a huge bite of his burger. "Dude's a fucking genius, but when he's that thing, don't get in his way." Emily let out a breathy 'Wow' before taking another bit and pressing a hand to her lower stomach. She grimaced slightly and wondered how she was going to get Alex to leave her alone long enough to grab some more Motrin.

OOO

Steve didn't mean to watch Emily having lunch with that weird kid, but his eyes kept drifting over to their table. He noticed that she's wearing her glasses and looks somewhat annoyed. Steve was sitting alone, tucked back in a corner, trying not to garner a lot of attention. When he'd gotten here, it'd been relatively quiet, but more and more agents had come in as the clock rounded noon.

"Captain Rogers," Agent Coulson called when he spotted him. Steve saw Emily's head shoot up at his name and glanced back at him. He met her gaze and watched as she flushed slightly before turning back to her conversation with the kid.

"Agent Coulson," Steve replied. Coulson motioned to the chair he was standing behind and Steve invited him to sit down. "What can I do for you?"

The agent set his coffee on the table and wrapped his hands around the cup. "I'm here to request that you meet with Dr. Thompson. He said you've missed your last session."

"I'm not sure I need his help." Coulson shook his head.

"I've read your files, Captain. _I _would need to talk to someone about all of that. You'd be surprised how much it helps." Steve raised his eyebrows.

"You…?" he asked.

"Yes. It's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s debriefing protocol that we sit with Dr. Thompson and discuss what happened." Coulson took a sip of his coffee and looked at Rogers, still in some disbelief that he was the man whose trading cards now resided in his desk.

"I don't know how talking about it helps," Steve said finally, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't either, but it does." He looked at his watch and stood up, "You should try it. One session, that's all we're asking for. Oh, and before I forget, Dr. Harthorn asked me to give this to you." Steve watched as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a paper. "Captain," Coulson says before leaving the cafeteria, and Steve sees him nod to Emily, who mouths 'Thank you'.

He's not quite sure why that small action makes him angry. Maybe it's because Emily's so close that she could have given him this. Maybe it's because she orchestrated Coulson's request. With a sigh, he opened the folded paper and read her cramped writing.

_June 14, 1943_

_I have found him. _

_Stark's Expo is the last place I expected to find the subject for the experiment. However, fate seems to have smiled upon me. He is physically weak but possesses the qualities that I believe will best suit the procedure. His name is Steven Rogers. _

_Tomorrow he will report to the base. Phillips will not be pleased. He has chosen his soldiers, his strong men. They do not know the value of power. _

Steve looked up from the paper and towards Emily. His hands were trembling and he laid the paper flat on the table. When Emily stood up to leave, he saw her tuck a notebook under her arm, and he realized that this must have come from Dr. Erskine's journal. Her eyes flickered towards him and she paused for a moment before walking out with that kid talking her ear off. Steve shook himself and looked down at the paper. The next bit was dated a week after the first journal entry.

_He has done it. He has proven himself, even to Phillips. Throwing himself on the grenade _(Emily's handwriting was shaky here)_ has made the Colonel see that he is the best candidate. _

_I have spoken to Steven tonight. He asked me why I have chosen him. How can one describe the innate qualities of a good man? I can only hope my warning about Schmidt has shown him the dangers. A part of me hopes he will decline._

_I fear that tomorrow I will have the blood of a good man on my hands. I fear that I will injure him. _

_I fear that I will succeed. _

_Ingrid is coming tomorrow night. She says she has good news. I hope I have some to share as well._

OOO

"So that's about all of it. That we know of, at least," Alex added. "Unless you come across some coded entries in his work that no one but the family can discern."

"You've ready too many spy novels," Emily sighed, massaging her temples.

"Hey, don't knock them. They're pretty good."

"I'm sure," she agreed, gathering her things.

"So did you wanna do dinner or something tonight?" Emily turned to look at Alex and cocked an eyebrow.

"I've got some stuff to work on, but thanks."

"Come on," he wheedled. "After I just explained everything to you? I'm sure I can explain the molecular breakdown a bit more. And plus, you're new, I'm new…why not figure this out together?"

"You realize I'm almost ten years older than you, right?" she forced herself not to laugh.

"Dude, I'm into the whole cougar thing." She couldn't help it, Emily laughed. Alex leaned back in his chair and smirked. "I'm not kidding. All my girlfriends are older than me."

"I'll pass. Thanks again!" she said while sailing out the door, shaking her head. As the elevator reached her floor, Em pulled out her cell phone and scanned the contacts. Inspiration had struck her while she'd zoned out over lunch.

"Hello?"

"Brock!" Emily grinned as she unlocked her door. "I was wondering if you could help me out with something?"

OOO

Steve sat on the couch and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. "I'm glad you decided to come back," Dr. Thompson said, settling into the wing-backed chair.

"I'm sorry about last time," Steve sighed, unable to meet the doctor's eyes. "I don't know what that was."

"Outbursts are quite understandable," Thompson nodded. "And we will find a proper outlet for them. But I am curious, what made you come back." Steve's thoughts drifted to the paper in his pocket, and he looked up to meet Thompson's steady gaze.

"I made a promise to be a good man, to stay who I was before the serum. And I'm not quite sure I'm keeping it."

OOO

Emily was excited to start her project. Brock had sent her an e-mail with the outline, and she had quickly printed it out, astonished that she hadn't thought of it before.

Brock, one of her friends at university, had spent two years with Teach for America before working on his doctorate. One night, when the doctoral students had gone out drinking, he'd them about a project he'd set his high schoolers to that they seemed to enjoy. He would assign a group a decade, and they would have to define the main events that he'd given them and any more they thought important, suggest books on the years, and list major pop culture events. While it was simple, Emily thought it might be an easier way to get Steve interested in learning about history than just giving him textbooks.

Part of her wanted to jump to space race, thinking about the pictures and videos that she could compile. The civil rights movement would be necessary before, _if_, they left on the trip, seeing as how one of his friends had been a part in it. The Cold War and Cuban missile crisis were a must, but unfortunately so was the Vietnam War. There was apartheid, and Rwanda, and the hydrogen and atomic bombs, and the Korean War… how would he handle September 11th? The 7/7 London and the 2004 Madrid bombings? Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq? The Arab Spring? Emily's head began to spin at the thought of how much ground she had to cover.

The pop culture part would be more fun. There were the Beatles, Elvis, Ozzy Osbourne, Journey, AC/DC, _Titanic_, Disney, Hitchcock, Mac vs. PC, DVDs, Woodstock, Patty Hearst, Michael Jackson, flower children, women on the Supreme Court and running for President, the Monica Lewinsky scandal and Clinton's impeachment, Y2K, iPods, 3D movies…the list went on and on.

Emily glanced at the picture of Dr. Erskine that she'd propped against the wall and smiled. Regardless of her feelings for General Sanders, he had been right about one thing: there was a certain symmetry with her helping Steve. With that thought, she grabbed her laptop and a few other materials before making her way to the conference room.

OOO

It was Friday again, and Emily found herself hard at work but thoroughly enjoying it. The lists of world events that decorated the walls were slowly but surely being crossed off, she was halfway through the 50s. To set the mood, she was listening to music on her laptop while working.

"_Number 47 said to number 3, 'You're the cutest jailbird that I ever did see'_," Emily sang, dancing to the list and crossing 'The King' from the list, "_I sure would be delighted with your company, come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me!"_ She did the twist and spun back to her work station. "_Let's rock, everybody let's rock. Everybody in the whole cell block was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock, rock, rock!"_

"Ah, The King," Dr. Thompson laughed. Emily shrieked, having been unaware of him opening the door. "I saw him in '65. Wonderful concert."

"I'm sure," she laughed, pressing the pause button before 'All Shook Up' started. "What can I do for you, Dr. Thompson?" She saw him studying her, lingering on the dark circles that had reappeared under her eyes.

"I was just coming to speak to you about Captain Rogers." Emily nodded and sighed. Thompson smiled and shook his head, "Yes, I'm aware of your current feud. Again, I will reassure you that you did the best for him. Rogers has been so see me every day this week, and I believe we're making headway.

"Oh? That's good," she said, picking up a stack of papers and using the 3-whole-punch on them.

"Are you working on this for him?" She nodded and put the papers on the binder to her left. Thompson picked up the completed 1945-1949 binder and flicked through it. "This is rather ingenious. What is this?" he asked, pointing to the CD in the back.

"Music."

"Wonderful!" Thomson grinned. "I'm sure he'll enjoy that. Have you shown him how to use the CD player?" Emily furrowed her eyebrows.

"Uh, no. Probably should have thought of that before making the disk."

"I'm sure you'll have the opportunity." When he saw the look she gave him, he shook his head and set the binder down. "He will come around. Besides, I know enough about _you_ to know that you're too stubborn to not follow through with your job. Just look at this, for instance. Captain Rogers wants to go at this alone, and I find you dedicating your time to creating history books for him." Emily flushed slightly.

"It's not that hard. Wikipedia's been a big help." Thompson laughed, and Emily chuckled.

"Well," he said after a few more moments glancing around the room, "I've an appointment I must see to. But, my wife would kill me if I forgot this; I wanted to invite you to dinner at my home tonight. Molly's keen on meeting you."

"Me?" Emily asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Why?"

"She's a soft spot for recent transfers to S.H.I.E.L.D. And she said something about making sure you got a home cooked meal," he replied. Emily cocked an eyebrow.

"Is anyone else coming?"

"If you mean Captain Rogers," he replied, "I believe we'll let him come 'round in his own time. Dinner's at five-thirty."

"Can I bring anything?" Emily asked.

"No. Here's our address," he smiled and wrote it down on a scrap of paper. "I shall see you then."

"Ok," Emily, "see you then."

OOO

"Mom, Mom, I have to go, I just pulled up," Emily said, turning off the car and checking her reflection in the rear view mirror. "Tell Dad I said hi. Yup, love you too. Bye." She smiled, shaking her head, and put the phone in her purse before grabbing the two bottles of wine from the passenger seat and opening the door.

The Thompson's had a charming little house, complete with white picket fence. A small garden was by the wrap around porch, and the lavender let off an amazing smell in the warm summer air. Emily took a deep breath and rang the bell.

"Ah, Emily, so wonderful of you to join us," Dr. Thompson said when he'd opened the door.

"Thanks for the invitation. I wasn't sure what we were having, so I brought red and white," she smiled, holding up the wine.

"Very good, very good. My wife will be delighted. Come in, come in," he pushed the screen door open and led her into the kitchen.

"Molly, Emily's just arrived. And she's brought you more wine."

"Wonderful," an older woman with silver streaked red hair smiled. "Perfect timing. I'm afraid Steven and I have just polished this one off." Emily stopped short when she saw Captain Rogers standing in the kitchen. He straightened up and looked from her to Dr. Thompson.

"Oh, hello," Emily sputtered. She turned and gave the psychologist a pointed look, raising an eyebrow.

"Shall I chill the white, dear?" Molly asked.

"What? Oh, yeah. It's a sparkling Moscato. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful. Would you like a glass of the Merlot?"

"Please. Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?"

"No, it's nearly done. Besides, from what I've heard, you should be relaxing. Henry tells me that you haven't been sleeping much."

"Did he?" Emily asked, blushing as she looked at Dr. Thompson again. He shrugged and leaned against the counter, nursing his own glass of wine. Captain Rogers watched this little exchange, swirling his wine.

"Yes. Both of you should be relaxing. Sleep is essential for the young!" Molly handed the wine to Emily and looked from her to Rogers. "Have you tried chamomile tea?"

"It's work-"

"I sleep enou-"

Emily and Steve looked at one another, and then down at their wine. To do something, she took a small sip. "Dr. Thompson, could I have a quick word?"

"It's Henry tonight. Shall we step into my study?"

"Sure."

"Back in a moment. Don't finish off the bottle without us," he said jovially as he beckoned Emily. When they entered his study, Emily turned on him.

"What happened to letting him come around when he was ready?"

"Well, that was taking rather longer than I expected. Having you both away from S.H.I.E.L.D. in a neutral territory might be more conducive to fostering the friendship that we hope for."

"Yeah, because this isn't awkward at all. How much does your wife know?"

"Molly? Molly knows everything. She worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. until very recently," Emily sighed.

"A little forewarning would have been nice, you know."

"Yes, but would you have come, I wonder?" She narrowed her eyes and took another sip of wine.

"Well, I guess we'll never know now, will we, Dr. Thompson."

"Tonight, I'm simply Henry."

"Fine, _Henry_, but no more stunts like this, okay?"

"Of course not," he nodded solemnly before opening the door. Emily took a deep breath and walked back to the kitchen, avoiding the looks that Molly and Captain Rogers gave them.

"So, Emily, I'm having some difficulty placing your accent," Molly said after a brief silence. "I've narrowed it down to New England."

"Massachusetts," Emily smiled, "by way of Maine."

"Ah, parlez-vous française?"

"Oui. Mon grand-père était canadien-français."

"Erskine? J'ai pensé qu'il était allemand?" Captain Rogers looked up suddenly when he heard 'Erskine'.

"He was," Emily said, switching to English, "my other grandfather was French-Canadian. He was very strict on all of his children and grand-children speaking French."

"A valuable talent to have. Have you thought about joining the linguistics department? After your current assignment, of course."

"No," Emily smiled. "I'm only with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a year."

"A year?" Captain Rogers said. Emily met his gaze and nodded.

"That's how long my contract is. After that I'm going to try for a lecturer position. I kind of miss the college atmosphere."

"Really?" Henry said. "I was happy to get away from it. All the students asking for paper extensions, sob stories about missing tests…it was tiresome."

"I'll give you that," she laughed. "But it's fun too."

"Never cared much for it myself," Steve said, almost to himself.

"No?" Molly asked. Rogers looked up, as though surprised that he'd said the comment out loud. "What did you study?"

"Fine arts."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed that," Molly laughed. Emily looked at her glass of wine and wondered if he'd done any sketching since their breakfast with Carter.

"So, Molly, is dinner almost ready?"

"What? Oh yes, I nearly forgot," the older woman laughed. "I hope you both like fondue. Our nephew just sent us this set and we've been dying to try it." For some reason, Rogers had choked on his wine at the word "fondue". Emily, however, had taken a deep drink of hers, remembering the last time she'd been out for fondue. She hadn't had a hang over that bad since…well never.

"I should have asked before," Henry said.

"No!" both Steve and Emily said. "It's fine."

"But please, let's not follow the tradition," Emily added.

"Tradition?" Molly asked.

"Um." Great. They hadn't known. "Well, if a man loses his bread, meat, or fruit in the fondue, he has to buy a round of drinks. A woman has to kiss her neighbors."

"Agreed," Henry said quickly, laughing at the blush on Emily's face. "I see you've had a bad experience with it. Now, if you two would like to move to the dining room, Molly and I will bring in dinner." Steve and Emily nodded, grabbed their wine, and walked to the dining room in silence.

"So how have-"

"Research going-" Once again they had spoken at the same time. Their eyes met and both looked away quickly. "You first," he offered.

"I was going to ask how you're getting along."

"It's different," he nodded. "I can't believe how much has changed. No flying cars, though."

"Flying cars?" Emily smiled.

"Howard," he shook his head, and added, "Stark" when she gave him an odd look. "At the Expo, he said that flying cars were only a few years away."

"We haven't quite reached The Jetsons yet, but I'm sure we'll get there eventually." It was his turn to give her a confused look. "It's a cartoon set in the future."

Steve knew that he should apologize, but he was still somewhat upset with Emily. Instead, he pulled out a chair for her and sat in the one across from it. When Molly and Henry appeared with a steaming pot of melted cheese and a platter of various things to dip, their eyes met, and both suppressed a smile.

OOO

Dinner had been fun, Steve decided as he settled back in his chair. "I've been meaning to ask you," Henry said suddenly, looking at Emily. "After your fiancé's death, did you go counseling?" Steve frowned and looked between Emily and Thompson.

"Henry," Molly said quickly, "is right now really the time?"

"I was just wondering," he stated. "I wanted to offer my continued services if you required it."

"I'm fine, thanks," Emily said quickly, her eyes focused on her nearly empty wine glass.

"What was his name? Specialist Garrett O'Connell?"

"Yes," she said quietly, feeling her eyes beginning to burn.

"Anyone for dessert?" Molly asked, quickly jumping to her feet. "Henry, if you'd help me in the kitchen. _Please_."

"Just a moment. He died in a roadside bombing in Afghanistan, isn't that right? Not long after your engagement? It must have been difficult, having started to plan your lives together only to have him taken from you. And he wasn't that old, was he? Only twenty-six?"

"Doctor," Steve said sharply, "I think that's enough."

"I've heard those wounds can be rather gruesome. Was it a closed casket service?"

"Excuse me," Emily said quickly, jumping to her feet and fleeing the room.

"Really, Henry," Molly snapped. "Was that necessary? You've traumatized the poor girl!" Steve glared at the man for a moment before jumping to his feet and following Emily. He found her, standing on the porch, her back to him.

"Are you alright?" he asked tentatively. He heard her take a shaky breath before nodding her head.

"I just need a minute." Her voice trembled as she reached up as if to scratch her nose and flicked away a tear. Steve nodded and settled in one of the rocking chairs. Emily turned and looked at him before turning back to the street.

"I didn't know you were a war widow," he said quietly. Emily let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh.

"I'm not, technically," she said before biting the inside of her lip in an attempt to keep her chin from quivering.

"Emily, dear," Molly sighed, pushing open the screen door, "I am so sorry." Emily sniffled and wiped at her eyes before forcing a fake smile.

"It's ok. I-I think I'm going to call it a night, though. I'm starting to get a headache…" she lied.

"Of course." She held open the door to allow the younger woman in. "I'll just get your coat."

"Thanks."

"Perhaps Steve should drive you," Molly offered. "He needs to get back to headquarters and I'm not best at driving at night…"

"I'll give him a ride," replied Emily. Even though all she wanted to do was have the quiet ride back to herself. Molly nodded again before disappearing into her room where, it appeared, Henry had gone. Raised voices met her ears.

"-worked, didn't it? They've need time alone together, and now they'll have some."

"You shouldn't have done it that way!"

"Molly, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"We'll continue this once they've left," the woman's stern voice stated before the bedroom door was opened. "Here they are! Would you like to take some of the angel food cake?"

"No thanks. But thank you for dinner, it was really wonderful."

"I would say perhaps we can do this again but that would require my husband having better manners. I'll walk you out." Emily shrugged on her coat and stepped onto the porch again.

"Want a ride back?" she said to Steve before sniffling again.

"Sure. Do you want me to drive?"

"I've got it," she answered. It would provide a distraction. Once Steve had said goodbye to Molly, the two walked down the path to her car, which she unlocked with the remote. "The lever's under the seat if you want to move it back," Em said once they'd climbed in.

"Thanks," he said, a hint of relief in his voice as the seat slid back and he was able to stretch out. Emily turned on the car and retrieved the GPS system from her purse, programmed in the headquarters address, and stuck it to the windshield. Steve watched her actions and shook his head.

"Turn left, then turn left," the woman's voice stated. Steve's eyes widened as Emily put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. Molly watched from the porch and waved as they left.

Neither Emily nor Steve said anything as they drove, but he saw her wiping away tears out of the corner of his eye. As the city came into view, he finally spoke.

"What he did…I'm sorry about it."

"He got what he wanted, didn't he?" Emily snapped before turning to face him. "Sorry, I shouldn't take it out on you."

"What he wanted?" Steve asked, ignoring the apology.

"You and me alone. He thinks it'll help us stop fighting," she sniffled again before flicking her hair from her eyes.

"Oh." They lapsed into silence again.

"What was so funny about fondue?" Emily asked out of the blue.

"What?"

"Fondue. When Molly said that's what we were having, you choked."

"It's nothing," he said quickly, turning to look out the window. Emily looked away from the road again and shook her head when she saw his red face.

"You're frustrating, you know that?"

"Me?" shocked colored his voice. "I thought my life was an open book. Especially since you're reading all about it and you seem to think you know what's best for me."

"So this is what the avoidance is about? Look, you need help, okay? And you don't like me researching the Captain America project? Tough shit."

"_I am Captain America,"_ his voice cooled. "And it was called Operation: Rebirth."

"Fine," Em said, jerking the wheel to the right. Steve's hand crashed into the dashboard, trying to steady himself as she pulled into a parking spot, slammed the car into Park, and threw open the door.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, opening his door and stepping out. Emily ignored him and walked into the store. She grabbed a basket, looked at the signs hanging from the ceiling, and stomped down aisle three. Steve followed in her wake. "Dr. Harthorn-"

"It's Emily. You want to know about me, fine," she snapped, grabbing a bottle of tequila and continuing down the aisle. After locating the shot glasses and limes, she walked up to the register and slammed down the basket.

"I.D. please," the bored woman said. Suppressing an angry sigh, the doctor dug into her purse and pulled out the I.D. "You too, sweetheart," the woman added, looking at Steve.

"Me?" In response, the woman jabbed at the sign that read "We will card if customer appears under the age of 40". Emily laughed, almost viciously, as he pulled out his wallet and showed his new (falsified) driver's license.

Emily tapped her foot impatiently as he retrieved a bottle of whiskey.

* * *

**Author's Note:**Super, extra long chapter for you guys! You can thank blown-transistor for that. I shared the whole dinner/car scene with her after it I'd decided not to use it (as it was originally mean to introduce Garrett, who made an early appearance), and she demanded that it be put in. So there you go, my 9 page chapter turned into 16 pages.

A few things: yes, I've included Dr. Banner! I have a new found love for him after The Avengers. And the science stuff that Alex was talking about, I'm with Emily. I suck at it. But in Captain America, Peggy says that the secret to the formula is locked in Steve's genetic code, and that wasn't discovered until the 1950s, as I put before (thank you Wikipedia!). The journal entry dates correspond to the date on Steve's New Jersey attempt at enlisting, where Bucky steps in while he's being beaten up in the back alley. And as you might have noticed, Steve is seen as Captain Rogers more often than Steve in this chapter, because they're fighting. That will be throughout the story.

Although it's not important, here's the translation of Emily and Molly's French conversation. _"Ah, do you speak French?" "Yes, my grandfather was French Canadian." "Erskine? I thought he was German?"_ And I'm not quite sure if I used the correct translation for etre (was), but hey, I haven't taken French for years.

Final thing: I know that Thompson's actions seem harsh, but don't be too mad! He's just trying to get them back together! I still love him, so you should too =D

As always thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Emily woke up in her bed at 6 o'clock exactly. Her mouth felt like cotton, and her head was pounding. "God," she groaned, turning to bury her face in the pillow. When she cracked her eye open, she saw a bottle of water and two white tablets sitting on the desk. Greedily, her unsteady hand groped for the bottle, bringing the wonderful liquid to her mouth as she chugged the water, leaving only enough to swallow the two aspirin.

Settling into her blanket nest again, she tried to sleep. It wasn't meant to be. Em felt her mouth flooding with saliva and swallowed hard, breathing deeply through her nose. After a moment, she flung off the blankets, nearly falling to the floor when her feet became tangled in them, and ran to the bathroom. Without pausing to turn on the light, she fell to her knees in front of the toilet and vomited. When her stomach was empty, she forced herself to stand at the sink and swished water around her mouth before collapsing back to the floor, her head resting on the side of the tub.

"Go away," she groaned nearly an hour later when someone knocked on the door to her room.

"Emily?" Steve said, ignoring her and pushing the door open. His eyes shot from the empty bed to the bathroom, where he could just see her foot. "You okay?

"Go away," she repeated. Steve laughed and walked towards her, flicking on the bathroom light. Emily groaned again and flung her arm over her eyes, blocking the stinging light as much as she could.

"How's your head?" he asked. Emily opened one bleary eye and saw him standing there, smiling.

"Asshole," she muttered. "How come you're not hung over?" Steve laughed again, ignoring the small whimper of pain Emily emitted as it echoed in the small bathroom, and crouched down next to her.

"I can't get drunk, remember?" Emily moved her arm and met his blue eyes, which were twinkling with suppressed laughter. Moaning, she sat up and, before he could react, started to pound on his arm before landing a kick to his stomach that sent him sprawling back into the door.

"Asshole," she said again before collapsing back into the tub. "Ouch!" she yelped when her head connected with the side. Steve laughed again, not at all injured by her sneak attack, and stood up.

"Why don't you get back into bed?" he offered his hand, which she ignored.

"I want to brush my teeth."

"Ok, then why don't you?"

"I'm out of toothpaste," she pouted, pointing to the twisted tube on the counter. Steve rolled his eyes and walked into her bedroom, retrieved a pillow, and walked back.

"Here," he said, lifting her head slightly and placing it behind her, "I'll be right back." Still laughing to himself, Steve walked back to his room and grabbed his toothpaste. He did feel guilty, however, when he hear Emily retching again. His own stomach clenched at the sound. Once the toilet had flushed, he knocked on the bathroom door that she'd closed and pushed it open when she'd groaned.

"I hate you." She was lying on the floor, her shirt pulled up just enough to reveal a thin strip of skin, hair spread around her in a mock halo.

"I'm sorry," he said, placing the new tube of toothpaste on the sink. Suppressing another laugh, he stepped across her and crouched down, wrapping her arms around his neck and placing his hands under her arm and pulled her upright. Emily's eyes shot open as he set her on her feet and she swayed slightly.

"You could have reminded me that you can't get drunk," she snapped, her voice not nearly as sharp as she'd hoped. For good measure, she pushed his shoulder. He didn't budge. After a moment, he seemed to realize that his arms were still around her and he stepped back quickly.

"Side effect. My metabolism burns four times faster than normal."

"I _really_ hate you." Steve laughed, and even though Emily's head was pounding she couldn't help but smile a little. He actually looked…happy. She shook her head, regretting it the moment she did as the world spun a little, and sat down on the bathtub's edge. Her hand groped for the toothbrush and she raised an eyebrow. "Out of my bathroom."

"Ma'am," Steve snapped a salute and walked from the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Emily began brushing her teeth and leaned over so that her forehead was resting on the cool porcelain.

"Feeling better?" he asked when she emerged a few minutes later, pillow clutched to her chest. Emily silently handed him the toothpaste and walked towards her bed and tossed the pillow to the head before flopping into it and crawling towards the pillow.

"Death," she muttered into the sheets.

"Breakfast would make you feel better." She disregarded him and put her pillow over her head, kicking the blankets enough so that the sheet was just in reach of her fingertips. With it successfully pulled over her, she could almost fall back asleep. That was, until Steve lifted the pillow and crouched down to meet her eyes. Emily met his gaze and shook her head.

"I don't want to tempt fate right now," she said. His blue eyes crinkled when he smiled, and then he was gone, having stood up. Emily pressed her cheek into the mattress and was surprised to feel him placing the blanket over her. She opened her eyes again when he lifted the pillow. When he didn't say anything, they drifted shut and she nuzzled into the bed.

"I owe you an apology. I know I said it last night, but you were half in the bottle by then, so I'm saying it again now. I'm sorry." Em took a deep breath before opening her eyes and pushing the pillow completely off her head. She rolled onto her side and, after flattening her hair, gave Steve a hard look. When he stood up, she propped herself up on her elbow.

"If you and I are going to be friends, I need you to understand that sometimes I'm going to do things that you don't like. But that doesn't mean you can go off and play the silent game, because that's not going to work for me."

"And you need to realize that I'm not going to stop sticking up for you," he countered, squaring his feet and crossing his arms over his chest. "And when I do things that you don't like, you're going to have to remember that I was raised differently than you were." Emily narrowed her eyes before holding out her hand.

"No buying me meals," she said. Steve was just about to clasp her hand and pulled back at her words.

"My mother-"

"My mother raised me to be independent. I don't like being indebted to people," Emily cut him off. Steve raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one," he said. "Agreed?" Emily huffed, blowing her bangs from her face, before shaking his hand.

"Now go away," she said, lying back down. "I'm going back to bed."

"I'll come back and check on you later," Steve smiled. Emily muttered something into the pillow that sounds like 'You don't have to', but he decided to ignore it.

When Steve sat on his own bed, he laid back and clasped his hands behind his head before closing his eyes.

OOO

"_Let's play a drinking game," Emily said once they'd settled in the cafeteria and she'd begun slicing her limes with a butter knife._

"_What kind of drinking game?" Steve asked, setting his bottle of whiskey on the table next to her tequila. _

"_A shot, a secret. You ask me a question, I answer, then you take a shot as payment." He looked at her red eyes and shook his head. "Chicken?" she challenged, sliding a shot glass across the table towards him. _

"_Fine," he said replied, pouring a measure of the alcohol into his glass. She smirked and did the same before reaching for the saltshaker and applying some grains to her left hand. "Ladies first."_

"_Age before beauty," she countered. Steve flinched at the barbed remark and held the shot glass between his thumb and forefinger._

"_Why did you tell Thompson about me?"_

"_Oh no, we're going to start out on the easy ones. Wait until I'm good and truly drunk to ask that one," she smiled, leaning back in her chair. _

"_Ok. Where did you and Garrett meet?" Her smile flickered slightly._

"_That's not really a secret, but okay. At a pool hall my first weekend in North Carolina. He bet me a date that he'd win a game. I bet a kiss."_

"_And he won?"_

"_No, he lost. I gave him my phone number instead," Emily smirked and motioned to the shot. "Drink up." Steve knocked it back and poured another as Emily asked her question._

"_How'd you meet Peggy?"_

"_Boot camp," he replied simply. When he didn't say more, Emily cocked an eyebrow before taking her shot. Steve thought hard for a moment, and frowned when Emily started to hum a tune. "What's that?"_

"_The Jeopardy theme song. When were you-"_

"_I didn't ask my question," Steve said quickly, which caused Emily to grin._

"_You asked 'What's that'. Take the shot while I ask my question." _

"_You're sneaky," he laughed before shooting his whiskey. _

OOO

Steve opened his eyes when there was a knock at his door. Half expecting it to be Emily, but was surprised to see Agent Sitwell. "Agent," he greeted him.

"Captain," Sitwell replied. "I just wanted to let you know that we will be receiving the last of the items from your crash scene today."

"Oh," Steve said.

"They haven't sent the inventory list, so I'm not sure what they have. But I told them to keep a look out for your compass," he shrugged, "so there's a chance its on its way." Steve nodded.

"Thanks."

"It'll be here around noon in Bay 3 if you want to check."

"I will." Sitwell nodded and adjusted his glasses before saying his goodbye.

OOO

_Emily walked back to the table, staggering slightly as she maneuvered the obstacle course of chairs, and set the glass of water next to the tequila bottle. "Whose question was it?" she asked, sitting quickly. _

"_Yours," he replied._

"_Oh, oookay," she smiled. Emily put her elbow on the table and pointed at him as she spoke, slurring slight, "Does it freak you out, me being who I am and you being who you are?" _

"_What do you mean?"_

"_The whole 'You're Erskine's granddaughter' thing and you being Captain America." He watched as she leaned forward and put her chin in her hand._

"_Kind of," Steve answered honestly. "Because I didn't know that he had children, and I couldn't do anything to save him. Also, I never thought I'd live long enough to have drinks with anyone's…" he trailed off, looking at the grain of the table. It surprised him when he saw Emily's hand reach out and touch his wrist._

"_You know I don't blame you, right?" she said, looking him squarely in the eyes. "I've read what happened. 'Sides, you got the bastard that did." _

"_It doesn't change what happened," Steve shook his head. Emily retracted her hand and did her shot, wrinkling her nose as she bit the lime. He pushed the glass of water into her reach and she quickly took a sip. "What do you think of Carter?" _

"_Carter?" Emily laughed, "He's an annoying shit, isn't he?" Steve grinned as her accent became stronger. "But he seems like a good guy. A bit full of himself, but a good guy. What do _you_ think of Carter?"_

"_He seems like a good kid," Steve shrugged. Emily laughed loudly. "What?" _

"_Sorry, sorry," she chuckled. "You, calling him a kid. He's five years older than you." Steve cocked an eyebrow._

"_He's ninety-seven?" Emily nearly spat water across the table._

OOO

Steve walked out of his room, intent to check on Emily. It had been two hours since he'd seen her. When he turned, however, he saw something sitting by her door. A closer inspection revealed a bottle of a box of Saltine crackers, a large bottle of ginger ale, and a smaller cold bottle of Diet Coke. Slightly confused, he picked up the items, thinking there might be a note or something, but came up empty. Maybe Emily would know who it was from.

Smiling slight, Steve knocked on the door and pushed it open when there wasn't an answer. "Emily?" She was still in bed, but she rolled to face him when he spoke. "Feeling any better?"

"A bit," she replied. Once she'd focused her bleary eyes, she smiled. "You are a god send." Steve flushed slightly as he walked over to her desk and deposited the crackers and soda. Emily greedily snatched the Diet Coke and took a long drink.

"It was outside your door." Emily frowned and threw back the blankets, tugging her sleeping shorts so that they better covered her thighs, and pushed her hair from her face. He watched as she picked up the box and turned it in her hands, even opening it and removing the four packages of crackers and inspecting the inside. "Everything alright?"

"I want to know who left me these," she replied. Something in her tone worried him.

"What's wrong?"

"I usually eat these all day after a night of hard drinking. Who the hell would know that?"

OOO

_Steve blushed bright red and looked away as Emily began to unbutton her shirt. "Don't flatter yourself," she laughed before pulling it to reveal another, albeit smaller and lower cut, undershirt shirt. "Tequila always makes me hot." She leaned back in her chair and shook her head before pulling her hair into a ponytail and inserting a couple of Bobby pins in to keep the shorter pieces off her neck. "Your question," she said with a few pins between her teeth. _

"_Erm," Steve said, trying not to notice how her breasts lifted with the action. He shifted in his seat. "What was Carter talking about when he said you were having…" Emily raised an eyebrow and he cleared his throat before muttering the rest of the sentence. She caught the word 'professor' and sighed._

"_I'd hoped you were a bit too out of it to pick that up," she slurred. "But I want to clarify a few things. One," she held up a finger, "it was not an affair because no one was married. Two," another finger, "I object to the term 'tawdry'. Yes, it was just sex, at least on my part." She smirked as Steve flushed. "Are you really uncomfortable with talking about sex?"_

"_You haven't finished answering my question," he evaded. Emily narrowed her eyes before taking a deep breath._

"_Fine, it was just sex," she paused to see the effect the word had on him, and Steve took a gulp of her water, "but there was…friendship there. Third," yet another finger, "it wasn't like he was _my _professor. He was new in the department. There was no chance I'd be taking classes on colonial America." She rolled her eyes and held up another finger, "And forth, I didn't know he was a professor when I met him." When Em picked up the saltshaker, he put his hand on it._

"_You don't have to do the shot. I think you've had enough for the night." Emily huffed and removed his hand before applying the salt and plucking a lime from her diminished supply. _

"_Nope. I was responsible in my early twenties, never got too drunk, always took care of everyone else, and never missed a class,. Now I'm going to enjoy my late twenties. Cheers, Captain." He shook his head and threw back his shot. "Ok, now what is 'fondue'?" Steve placed a hand over his face when he felt himself blush._

"_It's stupid," he grimaced and explained the story of him accusing Peggy of 'fonduing' with Howard. When he heard Emily snort, he looked up to see her pressing a hand to her mouth. _

"_I'm sorry," she pressed her lips into a tight line and tried to keep a straight face. It lasted all of three seconds before she burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry!" Steve couldn't stop himself from smiling as she took the shot. _

OOO

Once Emily had thoroughly inspected the three items and deemed them safe, she had begun to devour the crackers. Steve made a feeble argument for a real breakfast, but she had shaken it off before offering him a cracker. "So did I hear right when you said your metabolism is four times faster than normal?" Emily asked once she'd taken a swig of Diet Coke.

"Yes," Steve nodded. He'd settled in her desk chair.

"Why in God's name were you not taking four shots for every one of mine?" she demanded. "No, wait, scratch that, eight! You should have had eight shots!"

"Why eight?" he chuckled.

"Because men metabolize drinks twice as fast as women! This could have been our shot at seeing if you could get drunk."

"I don't think I could take that many drinks at once." Emily rolled her eyes and muttered something about Long Island Iced Teas being chugged and superhuman abilities. "So what are your plans for the day?"

"Attempting not to be sick while sleeping off an ungodly amount of tequila. Perhaps watching a mindless few hours of television. Add some staring at the ceiling and berating myself about once again drinking to have a conversation with you, and that'd about do it."

"We can talk without drinking," Steve said, frowning slightly.

"Our track record with conversations not involving alcohol isn't that great."

"What about when we talked in about Erskine in the canteen?" Emily smiled and took a bite of another cracker. "What?"

"Nothing," she said after swallowing. "Just remembering something from last night." He regretted asking when she said one word: fondue.

OOO

"_If you could do anything," Emily said, intertwining her fingers and resting her chin on them, "what would you do."_

"_As a job, or with my life?" Steve asked. _

"_Either. Or. Both."_

"_That's two questions," he smirked before leaning back and placing his intertwined fingers on the back of his neck. "But I'll answer anyways. I wanted to go to Paris and study art. It's dumb, I know."_

"_It's not dumb," Emily sighed. "It's beautiful there. I went for a semester in undergrad. If you ever need a translator, let me know," she winked. "Je parle un peu fran__ç__ais." When she reached to pour another shot, he grabbed the glass from her hands and poured some water in it._

"_Here, do a shot of this instead. Please," he added, seeing the look on her face. _

"_Fine," she huffed before sipping it. "You know, I don't need you taking care of me."_

"_Why are you so against having someone looking out for you?" he asked. Emily wasn't able to meet his gaze when she answered._

"_Because the last man that did died."_

OOO

Steve crossed his feet on the edge of Emily's bed and slouched in the chair. He looked over to see that Emily had dozed off again, arms curled around her pillow, and facing the television. She's put on a "reality show" program about a family, calling it her 'nothing box'. The slight smile on her face when she'd said it let him know that it was a joke she'd shared with friends.

When Emily had fallen asleep, however, he'd changed the channel to one that he'd found earlier in the week. It showed military engagements, both past and present, as well as the advances in technology. Steve had tried The History Channel, but had found that it was more often showing things about a pawnshop, or hunting for antiques. The first time he'd watched the Military Channel, he'd had Emily's book on hand to look up the wars they'd talked about.

"What time is it?" Emily asked. Steve glanced down at her and smiled at her tired expression.

"Nearly noon." She nodded and settled back into the pillow before glancing at the television.

"My dad loves this channel," she yawned. After rubbing a hand over her face, Em flipped the blankets off of her and sat up. "I'm going to take a shower, and then we'll give lunch a shot."

"If you're up to it," he nodded.

"The ginger ale and crackers helped," she admitted before walking to her dresser and retrieving some clothes. When she moved towards the closet, however, she paused and looked at the shirt crumpled on the floor. Steve pointedly avoided her inquiring look before she picked it up and tossed it into the laundry basket.

"Come get me when you're ready," he said, moving to stand up.

"I'm only going to be a few minutes," Emily said quickly. "You don't have to leave."

OOO

"_Emily!" Steve laughed, unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice. _

"_Lighten up!" the historian laughed, running down the hall. Her high heels, purse, and button up shirt were swinging in her hands as she rounded another corner, nearly running into a male agent. "Whoops! Sorry," she laughed. _

"_Sorry," Steve echoed, catching up to her and shifting the bag containing their alcohol and shot glasses to his left hand. The agent looked between the two, shook his head, and continued on his walk. Steve put a hand on the middle of her back and guided her down the hallway to her room, intent on getting her to bed. _

"_You're fun when you lighten up," she said, speeding up and spinning to face him. He was somewhat surprised to see that she could walk backwards when that drunk. "I like you when you're happy."_

"_Thanks, I think," he smiled. _

"_I mean, I know there are a TON of differences between then and now, but some of it is for the better," Emily said knowingly, pointing to his chest. _

"_Where's your keys?" he asked. Emily stopped walking and swung her shirt onto her shoulder before rummaging in her purse and extracting the key ring. Steve took it from her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her to face the right way. It took only a few more seconds to reach her room and he unlocked the door for her before stepping back to let her in first. _

"_Why thank you," she smiled. As soon as she was in the room, she unceremoniously dropped her shoes, shirt, and purse. Steve walked to her desk and set down the keys while she went to her bed and plucked her sleeping clothes out from under the pillow. When he turned to make sure that she was alright, however, he quickly whipped around to stare at the wall._

"_Erm…shouldn't you change in the bathroom?" he asked. Emily dropped her shirt to the floor on her way to the bathroom._

"_I don't see what the big deal is," she said, kicking the door shut behind her, "a bra is the same as a bathing suit top!" _

OOO

"Can I ask a favor?" Steve asked as they sat down in the cafeteria. Emily picked up her dinner roll and pulled it apart.

"Sure. What's up?"

"Would you mind going with me to see what they found on the plane?" Emily swallowed the bit of bread and nodded.

"Of course."

"Thanks," he said, picking at his lasagna.

OOO

_Emily walked out of the bathroom and Steve peeked to see if she was fully dressed which, thankfully, she was. She walked to the mini fridge and withdrew a bottle of water and Steve noticed the small white bottle in her hand. "What's that?"_

"_Drunk Emily always makes sure that Sober Emily has these in the morning," she held out the bottle, which he saw was aspirin. Steve smiled and shook his head at her statement. "She's going to hate me." _

"_Well, I think that Drunk Emily should go to bed," he played along. _

"_I think you're right," she nodded. He stepped out of her way as she walked to the bed, stopping only to place her things on the desk, and flipped back the covers and crawled in. "But I think you like Drunk Emily better."_

"_I like how unguarded Drunk Emily is," he agreed, grabbing the covers and placing them over her. Emily smiled and slid her hand under the pillow and looked up at him._

"_I had fun tonight."_

"_Me too." Emily's eyes were drifting shut. Steve crouched down to look her in the eyes. "Emily?" _

"_Hmm?" she tried to keep her eyes open but was losing the battle._

"_Why did you tell Thompson about my problems sleeping?"_

""_Cause I didn't want it to ruin your life like it did Garrett's."_

"_What do you mean?" Steve frowned. Emily forced her eyes open, but they were half filled with sleep. He reached up and swiped her bangs from her eyes, trying to make sure that she was awake enough to answer. Emily caught his hand and held it to her cheek._

"_He had PTSD. An' it nearly killed him." Steve felt his heart ache when a tear pooled in the corner of her eye, and he quickly wiped it away. "Goodnight, Steven Grant," she said dreamily before her eyes shut for the evening._

"_Goodnight, Emily Rose," he replied. Before he left, Steve shook out two of the aspirin pills and set them next to the bottle of water._

* * *

**Author's Note: **So there you go! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. A few things: next week, there will only be one update (probably, unless I get some time to write more this weekend), as I'll be heading home for my niece's birth! Again, thanks for blown-transistor for being my sounding board.

Want the explanation for the 'nothing box' thing? It actually comes from a conversation my 3 friends and I had on our way to the club one night. My girlfriends and I were talking about how we can never stop thinking, like being in the shower and thinking up comebacks for arguments that haven't happened, just to make sure we're ready (guilty as charged). Our guy friend said that didn't happen for men, that they could just stare off into space and go into their 'nothing box' and don't think at all. My hang over nothing box is usually a marathon of Keeping Up With the Kardashians (which is Emily's as well). If you are one of the 2 women who were part of this conversation, come back home! (Our guy friend has a grown up job and left school, lol). It's lonely without you here =[

According to the Marvel Wiki, Steve doesn't actually have a middle name, but in the movie, Colonial Phillips writes to Senator Brandt that "Captain Steven G. Rogers" was KIA. I'm going to go along with the latter, as I've never read a Captain America comic. Thank you internet research!

Now, here's something you can get involved with. I've been getting a lot of people asking about Emily's backstory. Some of it will come out in future chapters, but if you have a question you want answered, let me know! Anything you want to know about Steve? Feel free to ask in a review or private message, and I'll try to the answer in a future chapter.

As always, thank you for reading! And I hope you'll let me know what you think =]


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen:

_Swan dive down eleven stories high_  
_Hold your breath until you see the light_  
_You can sink to the bottom of the sea_  
_Just don't go without me_

_C'est la Mort by The Civil Wars_

* * *

"We can do this another time," Steve said as he passed the toothpaste through the cracked bathroom door. Emily's shaking hand curled around it before disappearing back into the bathroom.

"I'll be fine in a minute," she said weakly before brushing her teeth for what felt like the millionth time that day. Em brushed at the tears that had streamed down her face during her latest porcelain god prayer session. Dark flecks of mascara had attached to her eyelids, and the eyeliner she'd put on that morning was gone. All in all, she looked like hell hung over.

"I can do it myself," Steve said quietly. Emily spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth.

"Don't go without me. I'm almost done." She could hear him sigh, and in the mirror saw him push open the door a bit more. After giving him a reassuring smile, Em splashed water on her face and patted it dry with the hand towel before wiping away the rogue make up. Once finished, she draped the towel on the sink and pulled open the door the rest of the way.

"Are you sure?" he asked, taking in her pale face. Emily shook her head and darted past him, her grey cardigan brushing his arm.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, slipping her flats back on and grabbing a clip from the dresser. Once she'd untucked her hair from the back of her white t-shirt, she pulled up the sides, trying to make look like she hadn't just rolled out of bed.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is receiving the last of the crash debris." Emily frowned and turned to face him.

"Crash debris?" When he reached up and scratched the back of his neck, she heard him mutter that it was his plane crash. "Oh," she said simply. Once she'd retrieved her phone from the desk, she walked to the door and held it open, motioning for him to lead. When he walked past her, however, she put a hand on his arm. "Are you ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be," he replied.

OOO

During his nightly wanderings, he'd found the delivery bays. Emily silently followed his lead, occasionally bumping into him as he took one turn or another. Once, she hadn't been paying attention and he'd had to reach out to stop her from going the wrong way.

When they'd finally arrived at Bay 3, it was locked. Steve had tapped on the glass and, upon seeing who it was, an older agent let them in. "Captain Rogers!" he said excitedly, tucking a clipboard under his arm and reaching to shake his hand. "I was wondering when you'd be joining us."

"Sorry if we kept you waiting," Steve replied, dropping the man's hand. "We're having a rough morning." Emily blushed as the agent turned his gaze to her. "This is-"

"Dr. Harthorn, yes, I know," the agent nodded, shaking her hand. "I've read your work. Your article 'Lose Lips Sink Ships: Civilian Propaganda in the United States' in _The Journal of Military History_ was fascinating."

"Thanks," Emily smiled. She could feel Steve's eyes on her but refused to look at him.

"Now, what can I help you with?" the agent asked.

"Agent Sitwell said that a new shipment came in. I was wondering if you might have found a compass?" Steve asked. The agent held up a finger and flipped through a few pages on the clipboard before frowning.

"It isn't on this one, but let me check one more place…" he walked off, leaving Emily and Steve to stand by a table nearly overflowing with items. Rather than stand idly, Em walked around and began to examine a few items.

"What?" she asked, looking up to see Steve staring at her.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I didn't realize that your work was-" he cut himself off when he saw her eyebrow quirk, and cleared his throat. "What I meant was-"

"It's a small field," she saved him from trying to rephrase the question as she flicked open a folder. "And besides, I had a life before S.H.I.E.L.D." Her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter as she glanced up at him.

"I don't know if you should be looking at those," Steve said when he realized what she was doing.

"I was assured that I'd have full access to everything that came in," Em replied. "So I'm really just getting a sneak…" she trailed off. She lifted the folder and stared at the pictures it contained, her eyes wide.

"Emily?" Steve asked, walking over to her. She snapped the folder shut quickly and set it back on the table, trying to look nonchalant and moving onto another item. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she said, her voice a bit too high. He sighed and opened the folder, immediately seeing what had shocked her. It shocked him, to be completely honest, to see himself half extracted from a block of ice. "Steve?" she said softly, appearing at his side. He looked up from the picture and realized that he was shivering. It was almost as though he could feel the ice covering him again. "It's okay," Em said softly, rubbing his arm to warm him up. Her other hand reached out and shut the folder before pushing it into the pile of paperwork.

"Cold in here, isn't it?" he said, trying to sound nonplussed; she shook her head and smiled sadly, dropping her hand from his arm and pulling her cardigan closer to her body.

"A bit," she shrugged. Steve stepped back from the table and looked along its length to see if there was anything that caught his eye. When he saw a gleam of red, his feet were moving before his brain recognized what it was. After extricating it from the pile of things, Steve lifted it, feeling the familiar weight in his hands. Emily gasped behind him as he slid it onto his arm.

"I was wondering where this had gotten to," Steve said simply, drawing up his arm to show Emily the shield. It was battered, with the paint having been struck off where bullets had hit, but still in good shape. Emily tentatively stepped forward and reached out to touch the convex shape but hesitated. She looked at him as if asking his permission, to which he nodded.

Steve watched as Emily's fingers caressed his shield, tracing the ridge where red met silver. Her eyes were wide when they met his again, and a touch of a smile played on his lips. "Is that…?" she asked, motioning to the pile of material next to it him on the table.

"Yeah," he nodded, recognizing his old Captain America uniform.

"May I?" she asked, a slight tremble of excitement in her voice. Steve nodded; Emily grinned and smoothed out the uniform. Her palm rested on star sewn on the chest piece, thumb stroking the edges of the white shape. "Wow," she breathed.

"Here we are," the agent said, returning with another inventory list. "Oh, you've found that, have you?" he smiled, looking up from the clipboard at Steve. "We're just going to look it over before returning it to you."

"It looks fine," he said. "You-you found my compass?"

"What? Oh yes," his finger traced down the list until he said, "One compass. Its in evidence bag 947." Emily tore her eyes away from the Captain America uniform and looked at Steve. His jaw was clenched and he was standing stiffly, shield now propped against his shin, watching the agent rummage through a box.

"Steve?" she said quietly. He regarded at her for a moment before returning his attention to the agent. Emily watched as well, confused as to why such a small thing would make him so tense. And then she remembered something she'd seen on the SSR newsreels. "Oh," she breathed.

"Here we are," the agent said, handing over the bag with the small black compass.

"Can we have a minute?" Emily asked, seeing the stricken expression on Steve's face.

"I really need to log all of the-"

"Please. Just a minute," Emily cut in. He looked from her to Steve and nodded before vacating the room. When Steve didn't move, Emily sighed softly. "Here," she said, gently taking the bag from him and opening it. She slid the small circle out and placed it in his palm; the metal was still cold. He tensed slightly at the chill but it seemed to shake him out of his reverie.

Steve turned the compass over in his hand and his thumb traced the numerous scratched that crisscrossed the surface. He'd never expected to have it in his possession again. When he saw Emily's worried eyes on him, he cleared his throat. "It was my dad's."

"Oh," she said, leaning back against the table. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," he said quickly. Emily smiled and nodded as he transferred the compass to his left hand and placed his forefinger through the thumb loop before flicking the lid open in a practiced move. She heard him inhale sharply.

They had both been expecting to see an image of Agent Peggy Carter on the top of the casing, but instead there was nothing. Emily's eyes shot to Steve's face, where she saw his jaw clench tightly. "Steve, I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's fine," he said gruffly, blinking rapidly. "It wouldn't have been right to carry around a picture of another man's wife anyways." Emily stood up and placed hand on his arm.

"I'm sure everyone would be understanding. I've got her picture upstairs, we could-"

"No," he said closing the compass. Steve still refused to meet her eyes as he looked up at the ceiling before his eyes swept along the rest of the items recovered. "I've got to move on," he said softly. Emily sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. They were silent for a long time before she spoke.

"It gets easier, I promise." Steve looked down at her and took a deep breath.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Nobody does," she replied. "You either stay frozen in place or move on. They're always with you, though." He couldn't help but chuckle as she realized what she'd said and shook her head. "Sorry, wrong word to use."

"It's fine," he said, reaching up to place his right hand over hers. "How long does it take to be easier?"

"A while. But you get to a point where you don't cry every time something reminds you of them." And he felt her smile against his arm, "Me these last few weeks is not the best example, though."

When the agent returned, Emily moved away from Steve. He watched as she walked towards the man and motioned for him to follow her, allowing Steve a moment alone with his thoughts. It wasn't right to want to carry Peggy's picture, he said to himself. She'd married Falsworth. Had he ever found out that another man was carrying a picture of _his_ girl, Steve would have been furious. Still, his eyes were burning with unshed tears and he was having trouble swallowing the lump in his throat when he again opened the compass and saw the empty case. It felt like just a few weeks ago that Peggy had kissed him. Like he could turn a corner and find her striding up to him, a new strategy to attack HYDRA in hand.

"Steve?" Emily said as she reemerged with the agent.

"Yes?" he said quietly.

"I've logged the compass already. You can take it if you'd like," the agent said, pressing the clipboard to his chest and crossing his arms.

"Thank you," Steve forced his voice to be firmer. "I appreciate it."

OOO

"Dinner later?" Emily asked as they turned onto the corridor to their rooms. It had been a silent walk back, and Steve's hand was buried in his pocket, where she knew he held the compass tightly.

"Sure," he nodded. She suppressed a sigh at his tone; the emotions boiling beneath his cool exterior had shone through for a moment.

"Okay." They stopped outside of her door and she rested her hand on the handle. Brown eyes met blue for a long moment before Steve looked away. "I'm here if you need to talk," she said quietly. Steve nodded curtly and muttered his goodbyes before walking down to his room. Emily _did_ sigh this time as he fumbled with the door handle and met her gaze one more time before dodging into his room.

After stepping out of her shoes, Em collapsed on her bed and flung an arm over her eyes. Her body ached for sleep as it processed the last of the alcohol in her system, but she refused to give in. Blindly, she slapped the desk and pulled the now flat ginger ale towards her and drank straight from the bottle, no longer having to keep up appearances of deportment around Steve.

For the next ten minutes, she debated whether or not to check in on him. Part of her remembered wanting to be alone more than anything after she'd found out Garrett had died. No one had understood the pain she was going through. Yes, they could sympathize, but few could empathize. And she knew that she fell, partially, into the former category with Steve. Rationally, she knew that no one could empathize with being transported sixty-seven years to the future. But she empathized with what it was like to lose someone you loved.

The other part of her remembered how the simple act of someone sitting with her had been beneficial. She had been able to talk when she wanted to, there was someone to keep her from destroying everything within reach when she raged, someone to catch her as she collapsed, to be a lifeline in an ocean of sorrow.

"Steve?" Emily called softly as she knocked on his door. When he didn't answer, she tried the handle and found it twisted easily in her hand. The room was dark, but she could hear sniffling. Blindly, she reached out and felt the wall, her fingers finally finding the switch, and flipped it up.

Steve was sitting on the bed, slumped forward with his arm resting on his leg, hastily wiping at his face. When he looked at her his eyes were red and his cheeks damp. Emily sighed and stepped in the room, shutting the door behind her. They didn't speak as she walked across the room and sat next to him. He was somewhat surprised when she reached out and took his left hand in her right and rested it on her knee, her other hand wrapping around it as well. Wordlessly, she rested her head on his shoulder as he felt another sob fighting its way out of his throat.

Her thumb was gently stroking his hand. Feeling slightly ashamed himself, Steve reached to wipe his face with his right hand. As if reading his thoughts, Emily spoke. "There's nothing wrong with crying." Steve shook his head, jostling her slightly so that she sat up.

"Men don't cry," he said simply. It was Emily's turn to shake her head as she reached up to turn him to face her.

"Why would God give men the ability to cry if he didn't mean for them to?" Her hand lingered on his cheek, and she could feel him smile slightly. When he shook his head, his lips grazed her palm. Emily gently wiped his tears away and turned so that her shin was flush with his thigh on the bed, foot pressed against his knee, with their clasped hands now resting on her calf. His hand felt somewhat cold when she disentangled hers from his.

And then she was hugging him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. Steve held his hands out awkwardly, aware that the last woman that had hugged him like this had been his mother. It had been so long since then. And then instinct took over and he wrapped his arms around her, turning slightly so that they could embrace more comfortably. "I'm always here if you want to talk," she said quietly. Unable to speak around the lump in his throat, Steve nodded.

Ever since waking up in this nightmare, Steve had been alone. People had kept a respectful distance. It was as if he were still encased in his icy tomb, aware of his surroundings and able to interact, but still separated from humanity. Part of him was aware that he'd played a part in that, retreating from their offers of friendship and help, but it was too much. All of this.

When she began to pull away, he was reluctant to let her go. He'd forgotten what it was like to be held like this. Physical contact now seemed foreign to him. Handshakes were common enough, just a quick touch before releasing, moving onto business. But Emily's touches lingered, burned on his skin: her hand on his arm when she'd said it was a miracle he'd survived the crash; helping her stand at the gym when she was upset; pulling him to the bartender and then onto the streets when they'd gone for drinks; her small wrist in his hand as he'd wrapped her hands before letting her hit the punching bag; her hand in his when he'd helped her step out of the boxing ring; last night when they'd talked about Erskine and she'd touched his wrist; this morning in the bathroom; and now her hand holding his, her hand on his face and her head on his shoulder, her body against his…

"Steve?" Emily said, her tone concerned. He snapped his gaze back to hers and looked around for what was bothering her before realizing that it was him. "Are you okay?" He removed his arms from her and placed his hands on either side of him as her arms dropped from his shoulders and settled on her calf.

"Yeah," he answered, grasping the blanket to ground him in the present.

"You look…lost," she finished after struggling for the word. Steve shook his head, unable to explain just how lost he felt.

"I am," he said simply. Emily took a deep breath.

"Well, you're in luck, because I'm pretty good at finding things." When Steve's lip twitched into a smile, she smirked. "What?"

"It's something Dr. Thompson said." He looked up to gauge her reaction, wondering if she'd even want to hear anything the psychologist had said after the disastrous dinner the night before.

"Hmm?"

"Before we went to ask you about finding my squad, he said that I should never underestimate the determination of a historian when it comes to finding things." Emily let out a short laugh and shook her hair from her face.

"Well, I can't say he's wrong about that." They sat in a comfortable silence for another moment before she spoke again. "Are you going to see him on Monday?"

"No," Steve said shortly. Emily sighed and took his hand again.

"Please go."

"After what he said to you?" he asked, somewhat incredulous.

"I appreciate that you want to take a stand on my behalf, but as your friend, I'm asking you to go."

"Because of Garrett?" Steve said before thinking. Emily's breath hitched but she forced herself not to flinch.

"Because of Garrett," she agreed. "And because I want you to be okay."

"Did he get better?" When she didn't answer, Steve squeezed her hand gently. "You don't have to answer." Emily shook her head.

"It's fine. He," she took a deep breath. "He only got help after I left him."

"I thought you were engaged," he said softly. His eyes drifted to the ring on her right hand.

"Not then. We'd talked about it, and were living together, but I wasn't willing to start a life with someone who wouldn't take care of them self. After he fell asleep at the wheel on the way back from the bar…I left him in the hospital and packed up his things."

"That must have been hard." Steve was watching her, waiting to see how much they could talk about him before she shut down.

"Not as hard as you might think. I'd been thinking about it for a while, but I didn't want to leave him when he didn't have anyone to look out for him." He couldn't help but recognize the similarities between Garrett's story and his own.

"I can't be making this any easier for you." Emily left out a soft chuckle and he met her gaze, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"At least you've gone to see Thompson." They'd come full circle, and Steve sighed.

"I'll go back if you want me to."

"I do," she nodded, squeezing his hand. He looked at their clasped hands and smiled.

"So we're friends now?"

"Or something like it," she laughed. "I think we've pushed the student/teacher boundary a bit too far with the drinking to fall back into it."

"Especially since you haven't taught my anything," he countered. Emily's mouth fell open and she removed her hand from his and playfully swatted his arm.

"Excuse me, but yes I have, _Captain Rogers_. I believe I showed you my computer, and told you how a check card works, AND made an attempt at the Internet."

"Sixty-years and we've hit the highlights already, _Dr. Harthorn_?" he laughed at Emily's narrowed eyes.

"Fine, next lesson," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out that small black rectangle. "The cell phone."

OOO

By the time they walked down to dinner, Steve was feeling somewhat better, as was Emily. Steve was even feeling confident about using the 'cell phone', although Emily had quite a time explaining to her brother why she kept calling and hanging up (something about pocket dialing). She'd even promised to speak to Coulson about getting one for him, if he'd like.

"It's a convenience thing," she'd explain when he asked why he might need one. "You don't have to wait by the phone all day for someone to call."

"Who would call me?" he'd asked.

"Well, me for one. Carter. Coulson might. And you never know who else you might meet," she'd shrugged.

So, over dinner, they'd discussed getting the phone. Emily had assured him that it would be a simple one, as he didn't care for all of the bells and whistles on hers. Emily had rolled her eyes and explained that she had a…Black Berry? Was that what it was called? Because she liked being able to respond promptly to her student's e-mails, take notes and memos, and use the Internet. It had surprised Steve that she could do all that with a phone.

"So why do you have a computer if you have the phone?"

"Because this is just a miniature version of the computer. I need the computer because it's got a bigger hard drive, which is the memory, and it lets me use more programs. I use this," she'd motioned to the phone, "when I'm on the go."

When Steve walked back to his room again that night after saying his goodnight to Emily, he found himself clutching the compass in his pocket. It would be, he decided, his anchor to the past as he now looked to his future.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So you might have noticed something odd at the top of the page. Usually, when I put that, it's the song that I've been listening to while writing the chapter, so it'll have a bit of influence on it. I just discovered The Civil Wars this week and have been listening to them constantly. That song was instantly put on my writing playlist to listen to at work, haha.

Again, thanks to blown-transistor for her wonderful assistance with this chapter.

Yay for continued Steve/Emily bonding! But after all of that angst, want a laugh? If so, you should go on YouTube and look up 'How Captain America Should Have Ended' by HISHE. Pure. Hilarity.

AND OH MY GOD DID ANYONE ELSE HAVE A MAJOR FAN GIRL MOMENT WHEN THEY SAW THE NEXT MOVIE TITLE? Ahhh! Captain America: The Winter Soldier! Oh god, why isn't it 4.4.14 already?

As always, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Emily and Steve passed their Sunday separately, with her running errands and working on the notebooks and Steve at his gym. He'd asked her to go with him so they could continue his lessons while he exercised, but she'd begged off with a laundry list of other things that she needed to do. One of which was laundry, as she was quickly running out of underclothes, and the pile of dry cleaning that needed to be done was going to cost a small fortune. A bit of shopping was also necessary, although Steve had been considerate enough to let her use his toothpaste again.

When Monday arrived, Emily was actually up and out of her room before Steve could ask her to breakfast.

"Come in." Emily pushed open the door to the office and found Dr. Thompson sitting at his desk. He looked up from his computer, saw her, and sighed before removing his glasses and setting them on the desk. "I was wondering if you'd come."

"May I?" she asked, motioning to the couch. Thompson nodded and Emily took a seat, crossing her ankles, and settling her hands on her knee. She mustered up her most aloof look, normally reserved for particularly annoying students, and waited for him to take his seat in the wing backed chair.

"I assume you're here to discuss what happened at dinner."

"You'd be correct in that assumption," Emily replied, her tone cool.

"If I might explain-"

"It's not necessary. I know why you did it," she cut him off.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You said before that Steve was protective of me," she raised an eyebrow, "and you chose to exploit that."

"Emi-"

"Dr. Harthorn. We should keep this relationship professional if we're both meant to work together to help Steve, shouldn't we?" Thompson studied her for a moment before sighing.

"Dr. Harthorn," he began, "I do truly wish to apologize for-"

"Using my deceased fiancé to gain sympathy points with a soldier suffering from PTSD?" Emily's eyes narrowed dangerously. A slight coloring appeared on Dr. Thompson's cheeks.

"It was never my intention to hurt you," he said, "But you must agree that it worked." Emily flushed and scowled. "I believe the two of you were spotted drinking in the cafeteria, and then again when he retrieved personal belongings."

"Let me make myself clear," Emily leaned forward, "You will never again use Garrett as a tool to influence my friendship with Steve. Understood?"

"I think you're-"

"Is it possible to make myself clearer?" Emily asked sarcastically. "You are not to bring Garrett up in a conversation unless I give you expression permission to do so. He was _my_ fiancé, and you are using _my_ history to manipulate _my _friend. And I do not appreciate it."

"Em-"

"Dr. Harthorn," she corrected. He sighed.

"Dr. Harthorn, this method has already proven a success," he ignored her angry expression, "but I will abide by your wishes and not mention your past."

"Thank you," she before glancing at her watch before standing. "You can expect Steve at your normal appointment time. Have a nice day, Dr. Thompson."

"Dr. Harthorn," Thompson bowed slightly as Emily nodded and strode out of the door.

OOO

Steve's fist connected with the punching bag as he shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. He quickly pulled his fist back and punched again, causing the bag to sway dangerously on the metal hook. The next punch landed in the center of the bag, and it broke off of the chain, slamming against the wall with a loud 'thud'.

"Jesus," Emily gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. Steve looked towards the boxing ring, where she'd set up her makeshift desk, and grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry," he said. She smiled and sat back on her heels, trying to slow her pounding heart.

"Do you have an unlimited budget for those or something?" her eyes shot towards the now leaking bag slumped against the wall. Steve shook his head, causing his sweaty hair to fall in his face.

"I forget to pull my punches sometimes," he shrugged, walking over to the ring. He put his arms on the lowest rope and looked over what she was working on. "How's your project going?"

"It'd be better if I had Internet access," she admitted with a sigh. Her eyes slid over the piles of paper she'd compiled, and the stack of binders on her left.

After Steve's appointment with Thompson that morning, he'd sought her out and asked for her to go to the gym with him. Emily, who had been elbow deep in her notebook project, had initially wanted to refuse, but the anxious look on Steve's face had convinced her otherwise.

She'd recognized that look from when Garrett had come to see her after his first appointment with a psychologist. Admitting that he'd needed help had rattled Garrett, and he'd wanted something stable and familiar. While part of her had wanted to slam the door in his face, she'd gone to lunch with him.

When Steve had shown up with the same look, Em had packed up her project and had gone where he was comfortable. While the gym wasn't ideal for research, the boxing ring at least enough space for her to spread what she'd brought out.

"How hard is it to put that Internet stuff in here?" Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Depends on if it's wired for it," she sighed. "If it is, then I could bring a router in and set it up in about ten minutes. If not, I've got no idea." Steve looked confused and Emily laughed. "Right, one thing at a time."

"Sorry," he said, his face flushing slightly.

"No need to apologize," Em said quickly. They smiled at one another for a moment before Steve looked away.

"Did you want to take a break?" he asked. Emily looked over her work and shrugged.

"What'd you have in mind?" she asked.

"Well, I remember offering to teach you some self-defense." Steve looked as if he were attempting not to smile but was failing.

"Erm…now?" she asked, looking down at her outfit. While her dark brown tweed slacks didn't pose too much of a problem, the sea green satin shirt with a she'd just had cleaned was a bit too low cut for exercising without a sports bra.

"We don't have to," he shrugged. Emily sighed when she saw his smile fall slightly and removed her glasses.

"How about a short lesson, and then we cover some of my stuff?"

"Sure," he nodded. With a deep breath, Em put her hands on the ring mat and stood up; Steve helped her hop down from the ring, after tactfully looking away as she bent to step between the ropes. He flushed, however, when he caught a glimpse down her shirt when she bent over. "Do you want to borrow a shirt?" Steve asked.

"You have an extra?" she asked. He nodded and walked towards the bench where his bag was sitting; Emily left her kitten heels by the boxing ring and followed him over. "Thanks," she smiled when he handed her the white t-shirt. "I'll change real quick." Rather than going to the locker room, Em walked towards the office. Steve watched as she flicked on the light, shut the door, and closed the blinds.

Steve was beginning to wonder how long it took for a woman to change her shirt when Emily opened the door five minutes later. He smiled when he saw her; his shirt was far too large for it, and fell far past her hips. The green shirt was tossed over her shoulder and she was pulling her hair up into a ponytail. "So this place does have Ethernet ports!"

"Ok," Steve said, nodding. Emily laughed and tossed her shirt onto the bench before digging into her purse and pulling out an extra hair tie.

"Would you mind if I brought a router in so next time we come here I can get on the Internet?"

"I don't mind."

"You sure? I mean, this is kind of your tech free, modern world retreat," Emily said.

"I can't escape it forever. And if it makes it easier for you to do work here, than sure, put the router thing in. Do you need help carrying it?"

"It's a tiny box," Emily laughed, bunching the shirt at her left hip and wrapping the hair tie around it. While it wasn't perfect, at least the shirt fit a bit better.

"Oh, ok. Do you remember how to wrap your hands?" Steve flushed slightly at her laugh. When Emily shook her head, he motioned for her to give him her hand and began to wrap the strip of fabric around her wrist and between her fingers.

"Did you box before…this?" Emily asked, nodding towards him.

"Before the serum? Yeah. Bucky was training me before I tried to enlist. I was trying to bulk up," he shrugged before tucking the tail of the wrapping into her now bundled wrists. "Flex your hand to make sure that feels right." Emily did and smirked.

"If by feeling right, you mean my hands feel heavier than normal and oddly stiff, than yes, it feels right." Steve smiled and began to wrap her other hand.

"We're going to have to get smaller wraps for you."

"There's sizes?" Emily asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"There's different lengths. You've got smaller hands than me, so you need shorter wraps."

"Assuming that I keep taking boxing lessons." Steve nodded and laughed. "So what was Bucky like?"

"You've read the file." He specifically remembered seeing his best friend's personnel file in her conference room. Emily frowned and watched him until his eyes glanced up to meet hers.

"A military file doesn't tell me what kind of friend he was. I know his rank, commendations, and medical information. What I wasn't to know is what kind of person he was." Steve's hand paused and he held her gaze for a long moment before looking down and continuing to wrap her hand.

"He was a good guy," he chuckled. "I think you would have liked him. That okay?" Emily flexed her hand and nodded. "Good. Now, make a fist."

"Put up your dukes, Rogers," Emily laughed and lifted her fists. Steve smirked. "And that is the extent of my boxing knowledge."

"I've never heard that expression before, but I do know how to box. First lesson, don't put your thumb in your fist. It'll break when you throw a punch. And don't keep your hand clenched so tightly." He took her right hand and reformed her fist with her thumb out. "Now show me how you punch." When Emily moved towards the punching bag, he put out an arm to stop her and held up his hands.

"Uh, punching bag?"

"Aim at my hands."

"No way!" Emily protested. "I could hit you."

"No you won't," he assured her, "and even if you do, it won't hurt." Emily narrowed her eyes and slid her right foot back.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Steve grinned as Em took a deep breath, her eyes focused on his right hand; she was going to go for the right cross.

Except when she shifted her weight and pivoted her hips, Emily's punch didn't land on his hand, it landed on his chest. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she shrieked, clapping her hands over her mouth.

"Don't worry," he laughed, "It didn't hurt."

"I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted," she said, lowering her hands and shaking her right one slightly. It hurt her pride that he didn't even have the decency to rub the area and act like it hurt. Steve laughed again jerked his head towards the punching bag.

"Come on, Slugger, I'll get you sorted out." Emily rolled her eyes.

"I know a move that can drop a man in two seconds flat," she stated. "And give me enough time to get away."

"How's that one go?" he asked.

"I don't think you want me to demonstrate that one," she shrugged. "It'd be rather painful for you as it requires a certain male appendage being bashed." Steve thought about if for a moment before blushing and subtly shifting to protect himself against an imaginary attack. She smirked and allowed him to turn her to face the punching bag.

Steve corrected her stance and gave her a few tips on how to appropriately throw a punch. When she mentioned Bucky again, he chatted how they'd grown up together, some of their adventures, and how he'd always try to set him up on dates. Steve had to gently remind her that he hadn't always been the way he was when Em expressed surprise that he hadn't found dates on his own. "You were cute even before the procedure," she smiled, causing them both to blush, and Steve to re-concentrate on his teaching. It was only when he stepped behind her to show how to best throw her weight behind the punch that he hesitated. When he cleared his throat, Emily looked over her shoulder and quirked an eyebrow.

"Um," he said before reaching around her and taking her wrists in his hand. Steve blushed when he felt their bodies align with her back against his chest. "When-" he cleared his throat again, "when you punch, your motion should flow, like this." Steve pushed her left wrist until it connected gently with the bag, before pulling it back and extending her right arm. They both blushed when his right hip nudged hers into pivoting.

"Okay," she breathed before clearing her throat. Steve let her go and stepped back. "So it's…" Emily mimicked the action.

"Watch your fist," he warned her. She shook her head and moved her thumb before taking a deep breath. "Now show me what you've got." Steve stepped around her and crossed his arms over his chest. Emily smiled and rolled her shoulders before taking a deep breath. Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied the bag and bit her lip. Steve heard her exhale as she hit the bag; it swung slightly before falling still.

"Ok, now that was not nearly as impressive as I thought it'd be," she smirked, reaching out to swing the bag.

"You're getting there," he laughed before chivvying her out of the way. "Now watch my form." When he landed a punch, the bag swung back far on the hook and he had to reach out to stop it from swinging back at him.

"Show off," he heard Emily mutter. Steve laughed and motioned to the bag again. Em rolled her eyes and settled into the stance, sighing as Steve once again corrected her. "You're enjoying this just a little too much," she scolded as he pressed her shoulders down.

"What?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

"Bossing me around." Steve laughed.

"It's nice being the one who knows what they're doing for once." Emily huffed, blowing a few strands of hair out of her face, and punched. "You're still only using your arm. Here, like this." He stepped behind her and repositioned her stance.

"I feel like a puppet when you do that," she laughed as he once again took hold of her wrists and made her shadow his motions. Emily could feel him laughing against her back and grinned.

They continued for another fifteen minutes before Emily called for a break. Steve retrieved two bottles of water from the office while she moved back into the boxing ring and picked up the completed 1940s binder. For the next hour, Steve listened to Emily go over her work with him. She was patient when he stopped her to ask questions or go further in depth with parts that he found interesting. What she didn't know was jotted down on a paper for her to look up later.

When Emily felt that Steve was getting overwhelmed, she set the binder on the bench beside her and stood up. "So let's give this whole punching thing another go."

OOO

And so Emily and Steve fell into a routine. They would meet for breakfast around eight in the morning and then split off, Emily to continue her project and Steve to meet with Dr. Thompson (whom he was now seeing three times a week for hour sessions) or to go to the delivery bays. Around noon he would pull her away from work and make sure she ate something. After that, they would return to the gym where he would work out and she would organize the notebooks. Emily had insisted on only having self-defense lessons with him every other day, after she'd had trouble lifting her arms the morning after their first work out.

Emily couldn't help but feel excited when he started to finally open up about his missions during the War. Having a first hand account of battles, covert operations, and liberations of concentration camps made her absolutely giddy and nearly explode with joy. Of course, she'd reigned in her excitement when he talked about his friends being injured and killed. One that peaked her interest was "Lucky" Jim Logan, who seemed to have escaped more than one situation that would have proven fatal to anyone else. Steve attributed it to luck, hence the nickname.

Steve, however, was finding all of the "history" overwhelming. For instance, Emily had taken over a week to explain the Nuremburg and Tokyo Trials after the War, and the far-reaching consequences for international diplomacy today. While she tried to keep to a chronological order, sometimes Emily would jump into something without realizing that he was lost until after she'd finished. And then he felt like a dunce for having to ask her to say it all again. And that was just one small piece of history! The small smile that Emily would give him when he asked her to repeat something, though, was always encouraging.

"You will be the death of me," Emily gasped as she collapsed on the boxing ring matt and closed her eyes. Steve laughed and ran the back of his hand across his forehead.

"You're doing really well."

"Liar," she wheezed. Steve shook his head laid down beside her with their legs pointing in opposite directions.

"I'm not lying," he said, turning towards her. Steve could see a bead of sweat rolling down her temple towards her hair and, before thinking, reached out to wipe it away. Emily opened her eyes and turned towards him, smiling. "You're doing really well."

"You're a good teacher. Kinda feel like I'm slowing you down, though." Steve furrowed his eyebrows.

"No, of course not. I like knowing that you can take care of yourself now."

"And I couldn't before?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"No, I'm not saying… I only meant that-"

"I'm kidding," Emily laughed at his flustered expression. "Although I am pretty good with the pepper spray." She turned her head back towards the ceiling and closed her eyes, focusing on slowing her breathing. Steve did the same.

"Are you busy in the morning?" he asked after a while.

"No more than usual," Emily replied.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Another one?" she teased. Steve smiled and turned to look at her. "They're adding up, Rogers. I might just have to cash them in."

"Whenever you want," he laughed and Emily smiled.

"What is it this time?"

"Could you…would you mind coming to see Dr. Thompson with me tomorrow?" He watched as her smile faded slightly.

"What for?"

"He wanted to talk about us maybe going to visit my old squad." Emily sighed and turned to meet his gaze. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't-"

"I'll go if you want me to."

"Thanks. I know it's a lot to ask."

"It's not," she said. "Can I ask how those meetings are going?"

"They're…interesting." Emily smiled and looked up at the ceiling again. "What?"

"Garrett said the same thing. Are you still having trouble sleeping?"

"A bit," he admitted. "Dr. Thompson told me about some techniques to help me sleep."

"They work if you use them," she said before sitting up. "Alright, ready for a bit of history?"

OOO

"Dr. Harthorn," Dr. Thompson said as Emily stepped into his office as Steve held the door open for her. "Thank you for joining us."

"You're welcome," she replied, sitting down on the couch. Steve shook Thompson's hand before sitting beside her while Thompson settled in his chair. After inquiring about both of their health, he turned his focus to Steve. They talked about his sleeping habits (not really encouraging), use of dream rehearsal techniques (not too successful), and relaxation techniques (a few successful). Emily was somewhat frustrated by this news after Steve had been using them for a few weeks, but tried to remember that the recovery process took time.

"Now, Dr. Harthorn," Thompson said, turning to face Emily. "We have previously discussed the possibility of you accompanying Steve on a trip to see his comrades. Are you still willing to do so?"

"Of course," she said, crossing her legs and looking from Thompson to Steve, who was smiling.

"Wonderful. At the moment, I believe staying within the country would be the best. In the future, we may reach a point where you might feel comfortable going to England." And see Falsworth, Emily added in her head. She vaguely wondered what Carter was up to when Steve spoke.

"I…er…yes, I think here in the States would be the best," he agreed, looking at Emily, who raised an eyebrow as if to say 'I'm just along for the ride'.

"Now, if I remember correctly, there are two members of your squadron surviving in the U.S.," Thompson looked at Emily for confirmation.

"Senator Gabe Jones in DC and Tim Dugan in Oregon," she supplied.

"Yes, brilliant." Emily nodded along as Thompson rambled about how Steve should approach this trip, and how he should best mentally prepare himself to see his friends so aged. She watched how he intently listened to Thompson's advice, his eyebrows furrowed, and hands clasped on his knees. "Should you need my assistance in any way, you may feel free to call. I have been told that you now have a cell phone?"

"Yeah. Emily set me up with one."

"I can program my number into it if you'd like," Thompson offered. Steve leaned back and patted his pockets before sighing.

"I think I might have forgotten it." Emily laughed, which caused both men to look at her.

"The whole point is to have it on you," she smirked. "Is it even charged?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, trying to remember if he'd plugged it into the wall in the last few days. Probably not.

"No matter," Thompson chuckled before standing and circling his desk. He withdrew a card and scribed something on the back before walking back. "My cellular number is on the back so you may reach me at any time."

"Thanks," Steve said, looking at the series of numbers.

"I shall consult with Agent Sitwell about arranging your travel plans. Are you opposed to leaving next week?"

"It's fine with me," Steve replied, excitement seeping into this tone.

"I'm not opposed," Emily shrugged.

"Perfect," Thompson clapped and stood up quickly. "I'll get the ball rolling, as they say." Em and Steve stood up, realizing that they'd been dismissed, and said their goodbyes.

"Thanks for doing this," Steve said as they stepped out of the office. "I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure," she replied. "I'm looking forward to getting out of here for a while."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow, so I really didn't expect to get this out until later in the week, but I pulled a late night last night to finish it. As always, thanks to blown-transistor for looking over what my sleep deprived brain writes =]

A few things. Yes, this is kind of a filler chapter. Why? Because I didn't have a whole lot of time to write, and because I needed to set up the next story arc. Also, I did mention Logan, or Wolverine, from the X-Men. In the comics, he and Captain America worked together to liberate concentration camps (thanks to one of my friends for pointing that out). And THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for breaking 200 reviews! I had a major freak out moment when I saw that! I love you guys!

On a personal note, OH MY GOD MY NIECE IS GORGEOUS! I'm such a proud auntie =] Mommy and baby are doing well, already home from the hospital. Thank you to everyone who reviewed/messaged me about her.

As always, thank you for readings this and let me know what you think!


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

_What would you think of me now,_  
_so lucky, so strong, so proud?_  
_I never said thank you for that,_  
_now I'll never have a chance._  
_May angels lead you in._  
_Hear you me my friends._  
_On sleepless roads the sleepless go._  
_May angels lead you in._

_Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World_

* * *

Emily and Steve spent the weekend in a frenzy of activity. She placed calls to Tim Dugan and contacted the Senator's office (patched straight through this time, thankfully), and confirmed a meeting time. Agent Sitwell sat them down and scheduled plane tickets, hotels, and a car rental, and also issued them both a S.H.I.E.L.D. expense account card. After that, Emily had to rearrange some appointments she'd made to view apartments.

Steve had been somewhat surprised when she'd dragged him out to go shopping. "I've got enough clothes," he protested. Emily's eyes trailed over his plaid button up and khaki pants, lingering on his well-worn shoes for a moment, before shooting up to meet his gaze.

"You're having dinner with a Senator. You need a suit at the very least."

"I have a suit."

"One from this decade," she corrected.

"Gabe won't care if I don't wear a new suit," he smiled, remembering the smart kid that had entertained them night after night with his trumpet. Emily huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"We're going out to dinner at a nice restaurant. _You need a new suit._" Steve shook his head and retrieved his jacket before walking towards the parking garage with her.

OOO

"Your wife has good taste," the tailor said as he pinned the slacks that Emily had 'helped' him pick. Steve looked down at the man and smiled.

"She's not my wife," Steve corrected him before turning watch Em stride around the store and examine shirts and ties. She'd given Steve exactly one shot at picking the right suit, which he'd apparently failed at when he'd gone for the standard black suit and tie.

"You look like you're a federal agent," she'd sighed, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the back of the store, where the staff had quickly assisted them. Instead, Emily had made him put on a grey suit, which she deemed perfect. "What do you think of this?" she asked, walking back to him with a periwinkle shirt and silk sky blue tie with inset stripes in hand.

"Looks fine," he shrugged, which caused Emily to roll her eyes. She held the material against him and smiled before giving a satisfied nod.

"Good choice," the tailor agreed, standing up and examining the pairing. He plucked the jacket off of the rack next to him and helped Steve shrug it on. "We should be able to have this done for you by tomorrow."

"Perfect," Emily smiled, watching as the man pulled in the waist of the coat. With Steve's broad shoulders, he'd had to go a size up in the jacket and the rest hung too loosely, so it had to be taken in as well. "I'm going to head next door and start looking for a dress if you're good here."

"Sure," Steve nodded. Emily said goodbye and walked towards the door, but quickly turned back.

"Do you have cufflinks?"

"Somewhere," he moved to shrug but the tailor stopped him. She studied him for a moment before nodding.

"Ok, we can always come back if you can't find them."

"Yes, ma'am."

OOO

The following Tuesday morning Emily and Steve found themselves sitting in the back of a S.H.I.E.L.D. sedan on their way to the airport. Agent Barton had agreed to drive them, as he was already taking Natasha, who was headed out on another covert mission.

While Steve was clearly pleased that he would soon see his friends, Emily was a bit more reserved. All of the preparation in the world couldn't prepare Steve for what was to come. And while she was still upset with Dr. Thompson, she wished that he were there; he would better be able to help Steve with whatever he needed emotionally. Besides, she had only had a single cup of coffee and a few hours of sleep, so it was hard to be optimistic.

As the car pulled up to the Departures gate, Barton spoke. "You guys wait here. I'll give you a ride up to your gate next." The male agent popped the trunk and exited the car as Natasha turned in her seat.

"Be careful. Call Coulson if you need anything," she said, looking between Steve and Emily. They nodded and said goodbye and good luck, to which they were rewarded a confident grin before the spy exited the car.

Emily watched Clint set Natasha's small bag at her feet before turning away. Steve was watching them as well, but quickly turned his gaze to Emily, a small smile playing on his lips. She sighed and reached into her bag to withdraw the plane tickets and handed one over to him, her hand bumping the bag of Twizzlers that had appeared at her door that morning, along with a pack of mint gum and Time magazine.

They were trying not to watch the wordless exchange going on between Natasha and Clint occurring on the curb. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder and kept it there for a moment before Natasha nodded and picked up her bag. When she walked away, Clint watched her for a moment before moving back to sit in the driver's seat. "We've got an agent coming in. She should be here in a minute."

"Ok," Emily said, watching as Clint slid his sunglasses back over his eyes. They were only sitting for another few minutes when there was a sudden noise of someone hitting the trunk, and Clint hit the button to pop it. After it had been slammed shut, the passenger side door opened and a woman slid in.

"Barton," she said.

"Carter," he replied, and Steve tensed beside Emily. She quirked an eyebrow and looked from him to the back of the woman's head, his smile dropping quickly. The woman turned to look in the back seat and nodded at Emily before turning her attention to Steve.

"Hello Captain Rogers, nice to see you again." The woman's long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and her brown eyes were studying Steve. He was frozen, but Em could see his eyes sweeping her features as if looking for something familiar.

"Agent Carter," he said gruffly. Her ruby lips twitched before she turned to sit comfortably, and Barton pulled the car away from the curb. Emily reached over and touched Steve's hand, and he jumped slightly, his blue eyes wide. 'Are you okay?' she mouthed. He jerked a nod and continued to stare at the woman. When the car pulled up to the curb again, Emily was quick to exit the car and shot a glance at this Agent Carter. She was pretty, there was no denying that, and something about her was familiar…

With her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, Em walked to the back of the car and pulled up the handle of her rolling suitcase that Barton had lifted out of the trunk for her. "Thanks," she smiled. The corner of his mouth tipped up and he nodded.

"Your welcome. You going to be able to handle this?" he nodded over his shoulder to where Steve was emerging from the car. Em shrugged.

"I hope so."

"Have some fun, Kid," he smirked. She smiled and rolled her eyes as Steve arrived beside them and reached into the trunk to pull out the duffle bag Em had made him buy (he'd tried to get away with using his Army issued on until she's pointed out the broken strap. It was around that time he'd joked that she was bossy). "Captain," Barton said, shaking Steve's hand. Steve still had a dazed expression but he shook the other man's hand and placed a hand on the small of Emily's back to lead her towards the airport entrance. Em waved to Barton over her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Steve looked down at her and she saw a haunted look in his eyes. "Don't lie to me," Em added quickly.

"That was...um…Peggy's niece," he said, removing his hand from her back and rubbing his neck.

"Oh." Her eyes widened slightly; no one had mentioned to her that there was another of Peggy Carter's relatives working at S.H.I.E.L.D. They didn't speak again until they checked their bags and joined the security check line. Emily explained the security measures and how best to avoid being pulled over to be wanded. Steve nodded, not really paying attention, until Emily squeezed his hand. His eyes looked down at their hands and then at her. "Really, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he made an attempt at a smile, "she looks a bit like her." Emily sighed. Of all days to meet Agent Carter, it had to be today.

"What'd she mean when she said it was nice to see you _again_?"

"When I…woke up," he said, glancing around to see who was listening, "she was there."

"Oh," Emily nodded. "She was the agent they sent in first." Steve nodded and motioned for Em to move in front of him so the TSA agent could check her ticket. Once he'd checked Steve's as well, they moved to the conveyor belt and began to remove their shoes and belts. When Emily set her ring and locket in a smaller jewelry bin, she was surprised to see Steve place his compass in it as well. He smiled sheepishly when she looked from it to him.

OOO

"Aisle or window?" Emily asked as they stepped on the small prop plane.

"Doesn't matter," Steve said. She nodded and slid into the window seat and kicked her bag under the seat in front of her. After adjusting the seat belt, Em leaned against the armrest and looked out the window at the ground crew scurrying to load the last of the baggage. Within fifteen minutes, the plane pulled away from the gate and something else drew her attention.

"Everything okay?" she asked, looking over at Steve, who had his eyes tightly clenched and was breathing deeply through his nose.

"Fine," he said. Emily gave him a disbelieving look that he didn't see and turned her attention back to the window, her left arm draped over the armrest. The plane began to vibrate as the propellers spread up. When the plane started moving down the runway, Steve's hand covered hers as he attempted to hold onto the armrest. "Sorry," Steve grimaced, quickly withdrawing his hand.

"Nervous?" Emily asked. Steve jerked a nod and focusing on his breathing.

"Considering what happened the last time I was on a plane…" he trailed off, making Emily feel like an idiot. Of course he would be nervous flying after being in a plane crash.

"Here," she said, reaching over and threaded her fingers through his. Steve's blue eyes opened slightly before snapping shut again, a look of utter concentration on his face. "Relax." Em began to draw small circles on his hand with her thumb. When the plane lifted off of the ground, Steve's hand clenched tightly around hers. His breathing rate increased as they were pressed back against the seats, and for once, Emily didn't look out the window as they climbed to a higher altitude. Finally the plane leveled out and his breathing slowed. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It's the landing I'm worried about," he replied, forcing his eyes open. Steve turned to look at her and smiled nervously. "That's the part that didn't go so well."

"Well, we've got a trained pilot this time," Em assured him, giving his hand a small squeeze. "And no threat of nuclear destruction." The second part she said quietly before bumping his shoulder with hers.

"Thank god for that," Steve said under his breath before releasing Emily's hand. She smirked and reached for her bag, withdrawing her glasses, Time Magazine, and the history book she'd lent him months ago. He thanked her before flipping to his marked paged and staring at it, not really paying attention to the words. When they hit a patch of turbulence, Steve's hand shot out and claimed hers again. Emily smiled and glanced over at him before continuing her reading.

An hour later, the pilot announced that they were beginning their final descent, and Emily put away their reading material and took a deep breath. "Here we go," she said as Steve reclaimed her hand.

"It's stupid," he muttered, "being anxious about this."

"No it's not," she assured him. "It's human." Steve looked at her as the plane began to descend, his hand tight around hers. His breathing hitched as the aircraft seemed to wobble, and he couldn't help but feel somewhat sick when he looked past her to see the ground rushing up at them.

_It's buildings, _he told himself_, not ice._ And when the plane landed with a bump, he squeezed Emily's hand so hard that she flinched, and he muttered a quick apology.

OOO

By the time they'd claimed their bags and checked into the hotel, it was already past three o'clock. Unwilling to stay in the hotel, Emily dragged Steve out to see the sights of the nation's capital. They visited monuments and the White House, strolled past the Capitol, and visited the National Zoo before walking down the street to have dinner at an Irish Pub. The two chatted over beer and sandwiches, with Steve telling her a bit about his Irish immigrant parents, and waxed nostalgic about his mother's cooking.

It was nearly nine o'clock by the time the two stumbled off of the train and made it back to their hotel, where they had booked adjoining rooms. While Emily jumped in the shower, Steve relaxed and attempted to find something to watch on the television. Coulson had suggested a channel called 'Turner Classic Movies', and he'd caught a few flicks on there that he recognized. And, to his luck, he found _Swing Time_ playing. Smirking, Steve settled back into the pillows and watched as Fred tried to woo Ginger.

"What are you watching?" Emily asked about twenty minutes later. Steve looked up away from the TV to where she was standing, framed in the doorway with her hair wet, dressed in her nightclothes and quickly sat up as well.

"_Swing Time_," he replied as Fred began singing. Emily stepped in the room and looked at the TV.

"I didn't know this song was that old," she said, her eyebrows raised.

"You know this song?" Steve asked.

"Everyone knows 'The Way You Look Tonight'." Emily walked over to the bed and sat beside him. He could hear her humming under her breath as Fred's character Lucky sang to Ginger's Penny. When the scene ended, she leaned back into the pillows and crossed her ankles, which caused Steve to smirk.

"You should see this from the beginning," he said, making Emily look over at him. She smiled and nodded.

"Maybe we'll have a Fred and Ginger marathon one week. I haven't seen many of their films, but I love the dancing."

"They're pretty swell together," he agreed. Emily grinned and bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. "What?"

"Nothing," she giggled, "It's just that no one says 'swell' anymore."

"Oh," he blushed slightly. They were quiet as they watched the film, laughing every once in a while when Mabel and Pop bantered.

"I have to go somewhere in the morning," Emily said as they watched Lucky trick Penny's fiancé into giving him his pants. She felt Steve turn and look at her but she kept her eyes glued to the screen.

"Where?"

"It's a personal errand," the words seemed to stick in her throat. "I won't be gone too long."

"You want company?" Emily drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees.

"I'll be fine." She intently watched the movie, trying to ignore the way Steve was looking at her. When it finally ended, Emily took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "I'm going to call it a night."

"Alright," he said, rolling off the bed and walking with her towards the adjourning door. "Goodnight."

"Night," she sighed. Steve waited until she'd closed the door before he closed his. He walked over to where his duffle bag was sitting on the stand and removed his nightclothes from it. Once he'd brushed his teeth, Steve pulled back the covers to the bed and slid between the sheets, confident that he wouldn't sleep much that night. Still, he tried. When he curled on his side, he jerked his head back before laughing at himself. The pillow that his head was now resting on smelt like lavender: Emily had been using it. Shaking his head, he rolled onto his back, linked his hands under his head, and settled in for what would be a long night.

Next door, Emily unhooked her bra and tossed it in the vague direction of her suitcase. With a heavy sigh, she pulled back the covers and slid into the bed, carefully arranging the pillows so that she could hug one during the night. Finally settled, she reached over and flick off the light so that only the glow of the television lit the room. The twenty-four hour news channel lulled her off to sleep.

OOO

Emily slid on her jacket and slipped on her shoes. She glanced in the mirror and examined her outfit, a pair of jeans, a blue button up, and a black blazer. At the last minute, she decided on flats rather than heels. This was going to be hard enough with having shoe problems.

She'd slid a note under Steve's door assuring him that she would be back as soon as possible. After collecting her purse, Em opened her door and walked out, mentally preparing herself for what she had to do.

"You look like you could use a friend," Steve said when he saw her walking into the hotel foyer. Emily turned quickly and saw him sitting at one of the small tables with a cup of coffee in front of him, fully dressed, with a light jacket draped around the back of the second chair.

"I thought you were sleeping," Em said, leaning against the barrier separating the hall from the small dining room.

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged. She shook her head and sighed.

"You should try. We've got dinner with the Senator tonight."

"I'm fine. Do you want some company for your errand?" Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't have to. I'm sure you'd like to see more of DC. We didn't even get to the Smithsonian yesterday."

"We can do that after, if we have time. Unless you don't want me to come," he added quickly, his blue eyes searching hers. Em looked down at the ground and worried her lip before shrugging.

"If you want to. I guess I could use a friend." Steve smiled and grabbed his jacket. With a quick movement, he finished the coffee, threw away the cup, and pushed in the chair.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," she replied. They walked in silence to the metro station, where Emily purchased two day passes for them, and headed towards the Blue Line. The car that stopped in front of them was nearly empty, so they were able to find a seat quickly.

Again, they didn't say anything, and Steve was somewhat worried. He watched Emily as she looked out the window, a dazed expression on her face. It wasn't until she reached up adjust her sunglasses that he noticed the ring on her left hand. Steve stood up, steadying himself with one of the poles, and walked over to the posted map. His eyes followed the line they were on and he realized where they were going.

OOO

"Is this the first time you've been back since?" Steve asked as they walked the winding paths of Arlington National Cemetery.

"Second," Emily whispered, twisting the ring on her finger rapidly. He nodded and followed her lead. When she stepped off the path, Steve nearly bumped into her when she stopped walking. After taking a breath, Emily continued, eyes scanning the names until she stopped in front of one. Shaking slightly, she knelt down and traced the words on the cool stone.

Steve stood silently behind her, arms crossed behind his back. "I'll give you a minute," he said quietly before walking a few rows away from her. Emily nodded and sat, her hand still resting on Garrett's headstone.

"Hey babe," she whispered. "Sorry I haven't been to see you in a while." Steve could hear her speaking but tried not to listen. Even so, he could hear her telling Garrett about her life and new job. When he heard his name, it became harder not to listen in. "Captain America is real," she laughed, but there was a ring of sadness in it. "And not just an actor. So pretty much I spent my entire academic career believing a lie, but hey, I know now, and that's what counts, right? And it just makes laugh to think about you accusing me of having an affair with Captain America now I actually know Steve. You would have liked him." Steve turned slightly and saw Emily's shoulders slump, and he resisted the urge to walk over to her. "God, I miss you." She sat silently for another moment, her head bowed as if in prayer, before she stood up.

When Emily turned around, Steve saw that her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. He took a breath and walked over to her, his large steps quickly closing the gap between them. "Ready?" she asked, wiping at her face.

"If you are," he replied. Emily nodded and looked back at the headstone before blowing it a kiss. When she turned back to Steve, he gazed at her for a moment before standing at attention and saluting Garrett. Em felt her breathing hitch and tried to forced down the lump that had formed in her throat. Steve slowly lowered his hand and looked at Emily.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"He deserves our thanks," he said simply. Emily looked away from him and wiped at her tears. With a deep breath, Em began to walk away from the headstone, and Steve fell in step with her, his hands thrust in his pockets. It somewhat surprised him when she reached out and looped her arm through his and leaned against him.

"Did you want to see some of the other sights while we were here?" Emily asked, sniffling.

"Only if you want to." Steve felt her shrug against him and, when they stepped onto the path, Em began to lead them towards the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. They didn't speak as they walked, but Steve kept looking down at her to make sure she was alright.

When they reached the white marble auditorium, Emily sighed. "I think we're too late for the changing of the guard ceremony."

"That's fine," he said, Emily let go of his arm as they stepped onto the first step and leaned against the railing.

"I've always found this place so sad," she sighed. "All of those soldiers who were never identified." Steve shook his head and bumped his shoulder against hers.

"At least they have this," he nodded to the monument.

"A small gesture from a grateful nation," a third voice chimed in. Emily and Steve both turned to face the man walking towards them; Steve stood quickly.

"General Sanders," Emily frowned as Steve saluted.

"Captain," he returned the salute, "Dr. Harthorn. Welcome to Washington." Emily noticed the eight men standing behind the General, including the creepy assistant from their first meeting, just as Steve threw out his right arm to stop her from stepping around him. He was eyeing the General's soldiers, all of whom had their hands on their side arms.

"What can we help you with, Sir?" Steve asked. He bit back a growl of frustration when Emily attempted to go around him again, and he reached back with his left arm and wrenched her so that she was standing directly behind him. Emily let out a shriek as she was thrown off balance, but quickly recovered.

"I was wondering if you would be amenable to taking a short trip to our lab."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Emily said, peaking around Steve's arm. "We've got a full schedule today." Sanders smiled as Steve repositioned his arm to block Emily again and she angrily jabbed his back. "Let me go," she hissed. Steve shook his head slightly, still wary of the armed men. A few of them had removed the clip holding the gun in their holsters, and he would be damned if Emily was going to be in their line of fire.

"It won't take long. We'd just like to chat and this cemetery isn't the most secure location for that," Sanders said.

"Sir," Steve said. "I'd appreciate it if you had your men stand down. We don't want any trouble." Sanders glanced over his shoulder and nodded before returning his gaze to Steve. "Thank you." His grip on Emily didn't relax at all.

"I'm surprised that Fury let you out without a handler."

"I don't need a handler," Steve said simply. He was losing his patience with Emily who again tried to move around him.

"General, I really don't think now is the time for this," Emily said, standing on her toes in an attempt to look over Steve's shoulder. His grip on her elbow was keeping her from moving too much. "If you would contact Director Fury-"

"Fury?" Sanders scoffed. "The man that doesn't trust this soldier to leave without a babysitter?" Emily scowled and watched as Steve's shoulders tensed.

"I am _not_ his babysitter," she snapped. Quietly, she said to Steve, "Don't listen to him. He's trying to manipulate you."

"Captain, if you would come with me, we can get you back in the field, rather than staying in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s lab."

"He's not in a lab," Emily snarled. She suddenly found her back pinned against the railing as Steve turned and stared at the man who had been approaching from behind. The soldier's footsteps had been so quiet that Em hadn't even heard them, but apparently Steve had. The soldier's gun was drawn and had been aimed at where Emily's back had been moments before. Her heart was pounding and she started shaking. This was definitely not how she thought her day would be going.

"Lower your weapon, soldier," Steve ordered. The man stopped advancing, but kept his gun trained on them.

"We only need a few hours of your time," Sanders stated. Emily let out a shaky breath when she turned and saw that the other soldiers had drawn their weapons as well.

"Th-this isn't the place for this," she said, her voice trembling. Steve squeezed her elbow.

"I'll go with you," Steve said, "if you let Emily go."

"No!" she protested. Sanders nodded quickly.

"Of course." He motioned for his troops to lower their weapons. "Our car is waiting." Steve jerked a nod and glared at the soldier that had snuck up on him. The man holstered his weapon, his hand hanging loosely at his side as if ready to draw it at a moments notice.

"Steve, no," Emily groaned when he turned around and faced her.

"Go back to the hotel," he said, placing his hand on her pale cheek. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'll go with you," she whispered. Steve shook his head, his blue eyes imploring her to listen.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not putting you in danger."

"Captain," Sanders called impatiently. Steve shot a glare at the officer before turning back to Emily.

"Please," Em pleaded, holding onto the lapels of his shirt. He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb before wrapping his hands around hers and breaking her tight hold.

"Get in touch with Coulson," he whispered in her ear as he leaned down and pulled her into his arms. Emily threw her arms around his neck and held tightly until he stepped back and gave her a slight smile. When he spoke again, it was louder, as if to ensure that Sanders heard, "I'll be back in time for dinner tonight. Don't worry."

"Promise," Em breathed. Steve squeezed her hand and nodded before walking towards Sanders. The General grinned and motioned for Steve to follow him. The rest of the soldiers filled in around them, creating a tight circle around Steve, who glanced back at her before they moved out of her sight. Emily's knees were about to give out when she saw the creepy assistant walking towards her. "Get the fuck away from me," she said.

The man smirked and yanked her purse from her hand and rummaged through it, easily fending off Emily's attempts to regain it. He apparently hadn't found what he wanted. "Phone," he demanded, tossing her bag to the ground.

"Go to hell," Em snapped. He stalked closer to her until Emily was forced against the cold railing again.

"Phone," he repeated.

She didn't know what made her do it. But when her fist collided with the man's cheek, a surge of satisfaction spread through her, masking the pain in her hand. The assistant stepped back and pressed a hand to his face for a moment before withdrawing it. His eyes flashed dangerously and his hand lashed out and struck her face with a loud 'Smack'. Stars burst in front of Emily's eyes for a moment and she clutched the railing to stop from falling over. "This could have been so much easier," he snarled, and she felt him reach into her jean pockets and pull out her phone. "Have a nice day, Dr. Harthorn."

Emily let herself collapse when he walked away, her right ear still ringing from the slap. Wincing, she pressed her hand to it and could feel the heat emanating from her skin. Tears zigzagged down her cheek as she scrambled to retrieve her bag as the sound of other tourists began to meet her good ear.

After glowering at the Tomb Guard, Emily fled the cemetery.

* * *

**Author's Note: **As always, thanks to blown-transistor for her invaluable help with this chapter!

When I was watching the movie, I was wondering why Steve was so comfortable being on a plane after being in a crash. I would have thought that it would have been uncomfortable at the very least, hence the plane scene. As for Arlington, the Tomb Guard would have seen everything that happened, but the Guards are the members of the military, and thus fall under the leadership of the Department of Defense. General Sanders could have arranged the abduction, although it would have dishonored those represented by the memorial.

Thank you for the continued support! Please let me know what you think =]


	21. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Steve's jaw clenched as the black SUV stopped in front of an oddly shaped black and tan building. One of the soldiers opened the door and stepped out, just as General Sanders stepped into Steve's sight. "Welcome to the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. If you would follow me." The rest of the General's entourage surrounded Steve, not really giving him a choice but to follow them into the building.

"Sir," one of the men strode up to Sanders and handed him something.

"I trust everything went well," Sanders said, looking at the man and raising an eyebrow. Steve noticed the bruise on his right cheek and felt his heart clench.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he replied.

"If you touched her," Steve growled, causing both Sanders and the man to turn to him. The General looked at the soldier and scowled.

"Well?" he demanded.

"There might have been a small altercation," the man admitted with a shrug. Sanders stopped walking, but Steve kept moving. To his credit, the man didn't back down as the super-soldier stalked towards him. Steve's fist connected with the man's face, and his head snapped to the side and he stumbled into the wall. The man's cocky grin caused Steve to raise an eyebrow; he hadn't pulled his punch. Normally a hit like that would have made a normal man fly across the room.

"Stand down!" Sanders snapped, looking from Steve to his assistant, and then at the others who had leveled their weapons on Steve.

"At least you hit harder than your girlfriend," the man snickered, rubbing his face. Steve stepped forward to punch him again, but Sanders stepped between them.

"Captain, calm down."

OOO

Emily stumbled back to the metro station, her cheek still stinging and her hand throbbing. When she collapsed into an empty seat on the train, her hand immediately shot into her purse and wrapped around her wallet.

"Please, please, please," she pleaded, flipping it open and digging through the contents.

OOO

"My son's a soldier," Sanders said, holding open a door for Steve to walk through. All of the soldiers except the one that Steve had punched had left them. "He's at Walter Reed now. Lost his leg in an IED attack in Iraq." Steve jerked a nod. He watched as the scientists looked up from their work and stared as they passed. The General paused long enough to type in a code before the next door beeped and swung open.

"What's this got to do with me?" Steve asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Everything," Sanders stated. "You could be the answer to getting our boys home."

"It's about time you got here." A man with blonde, nearly white, hair and an impressive mustache looked up from a computer screen and scowled. Steve glanced at the stars on the man's uniform and saluted the two star General.

"What are you doing here, Ross?" Sanders demanded.

"You didn't think I'd let you take over my bio-force enhancement program, did you?"

"The higher ups took it from you, not me. They weren't to pleased when your experiments ripped up Harlem." The soldier shifted, and Steve looked back at him.

"This him?" Ross asked, nodding to Steve.

"That's him," the soldier replied, a hint of an accent creeping into his speech.

"Be quiet, James," Sanders snapped, turning to face the soldier.

"It's actually Blonsky," the soldier replied, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking, a British accent now prominent. "Captain Emil Blonsky."

"You put a spy in my command?" the anger in Sander's voice was obvious as Blonsky crossed the room and stood behind Ross. Steve watched the exchange with raised eyebrows; this was definitely not the military that he'd signed up for.

"I had to see how far you'd get," Ross said, shrugging off his jacket.

"This is unacceptable! This is my program, damn it! Now get the hell out of my lab," Sanders was going red in the face.

"Your lab? When did DARPA fall under your jurisdiction?" Ross challenged. "I've got just as much right to be here as you do."

"You lost that right when Dr. Banner destroyed Culver and Harlem. Your lucky you kept your job."

They were like children bickering back and forth, Steve decided. Both of them wanted a toy and were ready to come to blows over who got to play with it. This was ridiculous.

"Bio-," Steve spoke loudly so that he could be heard over the two men, "Force Enhancement Program?" The two fell quiet.

"Super soldiers," Blonsky smirked. His blue green eyes were sizing Steve up, as though trying to determine who would win in a fight.

"The formula died with Erskine."

"Speaking of Erskine, where's the woman?" Ross asked, turning to Blonsky.

"Dr. Harthorn isn't to be involved-"

"Leave Emily out of it!" Both Sanders and Steve's voice crashed over one another, and they exchanged an uneasy glance.

"Left her at Arlington, sir," Blonsky stated. "Pretty sure she scampered right after we left."

OOO

Emily ran up the steps of the train station. Her foot caught on the top step and she hand to fling out her hands to keep her face from crashing into the pavement. "Fuck!" she swore while leaping to her feet. The small piece of paper she'd been clenching in her hand flew out and she scrambled to catch it before the wind picked it up.

Her knee ached from where it had hit the stairs hard, but Emily forced herself to run. It was only a few blocks to the hotel.

OOO

"We're trying to recreate the formula," Sanders said. "After some obvious failures-"

"Not failures," Ross corrected. The two had stopped arguing long enough to answer Steve's repeated question: what does this have to do with me.

"_Failures_," Sanders repeated, his eyes shooting towards his assistant, whom he now recognized as one such failed experiment, "we're starting at the beginning again. Well," he paused, "close to it. Our scientists are hoping that Sternberg's Infinity Formula is a stepping-stone to perfecting Erskine's. It's just our luck that you were recovered."

"So you want to my blood?" Steve asked.

"Your DNA," Ross barked. "We can only get so far with Erskine's notes, and Phillips didn't know what the hell was going on."

"General Phillips wasn't a scientist," Sanders jumped to the defense of his mentor. "He was only there to train the recruits."

"Phillips wasn't involved with the formula," Steve agreed. "But what do you want to do with the serum?" He could tell that Blonsky and Ross thought his question was stupid.

"We could end the wars," Sanders said. Internally, Steve flinched; Emily had told him about the current wars going on overseas in passing, but he knew these weren't like the war he'd gone though. It was removed, so much so that the general public sometimes forgot that their men and women were fighting. But Sanders sounded almost fanatical. Apparently Ross agreed, because he chuckled darkly.

"Idealism has no place in the military," he shot at Sanders before turning to Steve. "Stark may have claimed that he's 'privatized world peace' or whatever bullshit spews from his mouth, but this country is at war with forces beyond our current capabilities." Steve raised an eyebrow. "Stark, for instance, the little prick, has a suit that could take out our tanks with a single missile the size of a pen. Then there's Banner, ripping up cities left and right. That doesn't even start with the extraterrestrial threats."

"Extraterrestrial?" Steve couldn't help but smirk, "Aliens?"

"So Fury didn't tell you about New Mexico."

"No."

"Big son of a bitch took out a small town," Ross stated, clicking away at the computer in front of him. He looked up and motioned for Steve to come look at the screen. After casting a weary look at the others, he did so. On the screen was a picture of what looked like a huge robot. Ross clicked and there were pictures of destroyed buildings, gouges in the road, and the robot was on the ground. "NASA had a satellite overhead tracking a series of atmospheric electrical storm and caught this."

Steve had seen a lot of things in his time, there was no denying that. But aliens?

OOO

Emily paced the hotel room, limping with every other step. A bloody tissue was pressed to her nose. With another breath, she reached for the phone again and hit the redial button.

"_The number you have dialed is temporarily out of service. Ple-_" She slammed the receiver back down and resumed pacing, pausing only to drop the tissue in the trash and pick up another.

For once, Emily was happy that she hadn't cleaned out her purse. The card that Coulson had given her the first time they'd met had been crammed between receipts and movie ticket stubs. For the first time, Em was incredibly happy that she hadn't cleaned out her purse.

Now if he would just answer the damn phone.

"_Hello?"_

"Thank god!" Emily gasped when Coulson finally picked up the phone. "I need your help."

OOO

"Even if I were to give you my DNA," Steve said, "any serum you develop could be dangerous."

"You're talking about Erskine's personality criteria?" Sanders asked.

"It's nonsense," Blonsky huffed.

"It's not," Steve snapped.

"Erskine wanted boy scouts, not soldiers," Blonsky shot back. Steve took a step towards him with clenched fists and the soldier laughed, opening his arms in an invitation to take a swing.

"For good reason." His blue eyes were flashing dangerously, and Steve force himself to take several deep breaths before he lost control again. "You didn't see Schmidt."

"One crazed Nazi? I've fought worse."

"Gentlemen," Sanders said, stepping between the two as Steve took another step forward. "This isn't a competition."

OOO

Coulson was on his way. He'd told her that he would be there as quickly as possible.

Emily limped back from the ice machine and set the bucket on the night stand before retrieving a washcloth from the bathroom and the dry cleaning bag from the closet. She grabbed her pajama sleeping pants from he suitcase and tossed the three items onto the bed. It took some maneuvering to get out of her jeans, and she banged her shoulder on the wall when she nearly toppled over.

There was a nasty bruise developing on her knee, and it was already a bit swollen. Cursing under her breath, she hobbled over to the bed and slipped on her PJ pants before sitting on the bed. Em shook half of the ice into the bag and placed on her knee; she bit her lip at the chill. A handful of ice went into the washcloth, which she placed on her cheek. She held the makeshift ice pack with her left hand and pressed the knuckles of her right hand to the ice as well.

Em forced a shaky breath into her lungs and tried to clear her head. She could feel her heart racing whenever she thought about what could be happening to Steve.

Coulson was coming.

OOO

Blonsky smirked as he walked past him and bumped his shoulder. Steve frowned and watched him walk out of the lab, unimpressed by the man's juvenile behavior. But part of him wanted to reach out and slug the guy again.

"Rogers," Sanders said, "We're just looking for a bit of help."

"It's too dangerous," Steve shook his head. "I'd be more than happy to help you-"

"We need more than just you," Ross snapped.

"Don't you have weapons or something? Schmidt was developing some-"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. confiscated all of the technology from Stark and the New Mexico site. You," Ross strode around the desk and pointed at Steve's chest, "are what we need."

"I can't help you," Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

OOO

Em spent the next few hours icing her injuries and pacing the room. Coulson hasn't contacted her, but she was praying that he'd found Steve by now. Emily sat up quickly when she heard a noise in Steve's room. "Emily?"

"Steve?" she flung the washcloth into the ice bucket as he stepped into her room.

"Are you alright?" he demanded, striding over to her. She had just enough time to slide the partially melted bag of ice off of her knee and stand before he was pulling her into his arms. Her cheek hit his shoulder and she hissed in pain. Steve instantly pulled back and looked down at her, his hand shooting up to her tip her chin so that he could see the bruise.

"It's fine," she said quickly as his eyes darkened.

"It's not fine," he said, his thumb gently sweeping her cheekbone. Em nodded and pushed against him so that he let go. The relief that had flooded her system upon seeing him was quickly turning to anger.

"You're damn right it's not fine. Why the hell did you go with him? Tu m'as failli me donner une crise cardiaque!"

Steve frowned; he was partially confused at her sudden anger, and what she'd said in French. "He was pointing a gun at you."

"Oui, je sais! But I could have gone with you."

"No," he said simply, grabbing her right hand and holding it up so that he could examine her knuckles. When she tried to rip her hand out of his grasp, he held it tightly.

"T'est un maudit cave, Steve Rogers," she muttered, making him smirk. He kind of liked the way she said his last name in French. "Are you at least going to tell me what happened? How did you get away from them?"

"You didn't fracture anything," he stated, letting her hand go and putting his hands on her shoulders. Steve pressed down just enough so that she sat on the bed, and he knelt in front of her. A slight blush crept onto his face as he wrapped a hand around her calf and began to examine her knee.

"Steve," her tone was demanding. When he didn't answer, Em reached forward and forced his chin up so that he would meet her gaze. "Answers. Now."

"General Ross is interested in Erskine's formula," a voice said from the adjoining doorway. Emily looked over and saw Agent Coulson standing there, his hands clasped in front of him, and Agent Carter behind him. He held up her cell phone before walking over towards them, and Steve quickly stood up. "I believe this belongs to you."

"Thanks," she said. "Who's General Ross? I thought Sanders was the one interested in the formula?"

"He is, but Ross was originally in charge. I believe Dr. Flemming told you about the experimentation at Culver University?" Emily had to think back to the conversation with Alex the month before, and she nodded. "Ross was trying to weaponize the serum. It failed."

"Alex said that it worked."

"Partially," Coulson nodded. "But there were side effects."

"Blonsky looked fine to me," Steve said.

"He normally does," Agent Carter said, stepping into the room. She stood at the foot of the bed and looked over at Emily. "You're lucky those bruises are all you have. He could have easily broken every bone in your body." Her clipped British accent made her words sound harsher than they actually were.

"What do you mean?"

"The military somehow managed to get their hands on some of your grandfather's serum and Ross injected Blonsky with it. Blonsky was later injected with a failed gamma ray serum prototype that reacted badly with Erskin's formula."

Emily was glad she was sitting down, because her head was suddenly spinning. "So that guy was a Super Soldier?" Agent Carter nodded.

"I thought all of the serum was destroyed?" Steve said.

"We had, too," Coulson said.

"What I want to know is how in the hell did Blonsky get loose?" the Brit asked.

"The government let him go," Coulson replied. "Ross somehow managed to convince enough people that Blonsky would work for them. Fury and I recognized him when he came with Sanders. It wasn't a surprise that he was still attached to the Super Soldier program. He's one of their best results."

"Except for appearance. At least Banner doesn't grow spines." Sharon smirked. Emily pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to comprehend what they had just said.

"They mentioned him," Steve said suddenly. He looked at Emily as she lurched to her feet and put out an arm to help her, but she waved him away as she hobbled to her suitcase and retrieved a bottle of aspirin before shaking out a single pill.

"We need to debrief you," Coulson stated. "There's a Quinjet at Washington-Dulles that'll take us back to New York."

"We've got dinner with Gabe in a few hours," Steve frowned.

"Captain, I think this takes priority," Agent Carter said, crossing her arms over her chest. The authority ringing in her voice and the flash in her brown eyes brought Steve up short; for a moment it was almost like Peggy was standing in front of him.

"Ross and Sanders aren't going to be coming back tonight, not after the Chief of Staff intervened."

"What?" Emily exclaimed. Coulson, Carter, and Steve all turned to look at her. "The Chief of Staff got involved?"

"Of course he did," Agent Carter scoffed. "How else did you think we'd gotten him out of there?"

"But…why? Would he have known about all of this?" Emily asked.

"He wouldn't have authorized the desecration of the National Cemetery, kidnapping, assault, and robbery," Coulson said plainly. "Sanders was over zealous in his attempts to get Captain Rogers to DARPA." Emily looked down at the small bottle in her hand and shook out another pill.

"Why don't we start from the beginning?"

OOO

By the time Steve had finished explaining exactly what had happened during his four hours at DARPA, night had fallen and Emily had a pounding headache.

In short she had found out that: the scientists had run rests on Steve's blood (all results/samples confiscated/destroyed by Coulson and Carter); there had been numerous unsuccessful attempts at recreating her grandfather's formula but they had been able to slow the aging process with something called the Infinity Serum which was developed by a Dr. Sternberg; Sander's creepy assistant, known revealed to be Captain Blonsky of the British Royal Marines, had destroyed parts of Harlem and could have easily broken her neck if he'd put any force behind the slap (thank you Agent Carter); Tony Stark was somehow involved with S.H.I.E.L.D.; and aliens existed, and they were apparently figures from Norse mythology.

Emily leaned forward and put her head in her hands, trying to sort through all of the information that had been thrown at her. When she's started with S.H.I.E.L.D., Coulson had told her that they dealt with a lot of things that weren't public knowledge, and that working with Steve might put her in contact with those secrets. But she'd thought that, at most, she might find out who actually killed Kennedy or something.

Super soldiers she could handle, at least if they were like Steve. But aliens? Monsters that could tear up cities? That was way, way more than she'd signed on for.

When she felt the bed depress on her side, Emily looked up to see Steve staring at her. "Are you alright?"

"I think my brain might explode," she groaned. He chuckled and looked towards the door that led to his room; Coulson and Agent Carter had shut it behind them when they'd gone in there to call Director Fury.

"At least you know how I feel all of the time," he teased. Emily rolled her eyes and flung herself back onto the bed.

"You've got some experience with the crazy, supernatural stuff though. Me? I'm just a girl from Massachusetts with a history degree."

"I'm just a kid from Brooklyn," he said, turning to look at her.

"Who was injected with a serum makes steroids look kid's play and fought an insane Nazi hell bent on decimating the world through nuclear warfare." Steve cocked an eyebrow, once again not fully understanding what she'd said. Emily sighed and closed her eyes, "You're a part of all that craziness. I'm not."

Steve shook his head, "I didn't sign up for all of that when I joined the Army, just like you didn't sign up for all of this when you joined S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I don't think I technically joined as much as signed on as a consultant." Steve couldn't help but smile. They were quiet for a moment, just watching one another, until Emily nodded towards the closed door. "I didn't expect to see Agent Carter with Coulson."

"He said that they were in the middle of a debriefing when he got your call," he shrugged.

"Is it weird having her around?"

"A bit," he nodded. "But I've had something else to concentrate on."

"The whole kidnapping thing does kind of overshadow the whole…situation," Emily wasn't quite sure what to call the 'Former girlfriend's niece looks like her and is currently standing in the other room' deal.

"I meant making sure you were okay," Steve said, causing them both to blush slightly.

"I'm a big girl, I can handle myself. Besides, if I'd had my pepper spray, that Blonsky guy wouldn't have stood a chance."

"I'm glad you didn't," Steve said quickly. "That bruise is bad enough. Imagine if you'd gotten him really mad." Emily shuttered involuntarily, Agent Carter's comment echoing though her head. Steve was reaching to touch her cheek again when the door opened; he jumped to his feet as Agent Carter entered, followed by Coulson. Emily sat up as well.

"We'll be escorting you to the airport following your dinner with Senator Jones," he said. "Director Fury has spoken to the Chief of Staff and he's assured that you won't be harassed by Ross or Sanders again."

"So we're still going?" Emily asked, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

"Yes," Agent Carter nodded. "We'll be posted outside of the restaurant in case anything happens, but I don't think that either of the Generals will attempt anything after the dressing down they're about to receive." Emily nodded and stood up, wincing slightly as she put weight on her knee.

"Guess we'd better start getting ready then."

* * *

**Author's Note: **As always, thanks to **blown-transistor** for her help, especially with this chapter as it was written when I was half asleep/passed out from exhaustion. This chapter was nearly late because I've spent the weekend packing up my apartment, but I pulled a late night to get it out on time. Couldn't leave you guys hanging that long.

Thank you so much for all the feedback on the last chapter. I agree with those of you who said that the whole kidnap scene is improbable given military procedures. Another reader pointed out that people would likely have seen it occur. I forgot to put it in the chapter, but Sanders would have had a perimeter set up before going in.

This chapter is really plot heavy. No filler. But as I've said before, I work mainly with the movie-verse, and I've only seen The Incredible Hulk once, so I apologize if General Ross is out of character. Props to **lazarus73 **for asking where General Ross was in the story. And yeah, Blonsky. According to _The Consultant_ (the small clip with Coulson), he was still in custody. But for fun, I'm letting him out.

DARPA also exists. They have a lot of interesting projects going on. They did work on a "Super Soldier" program, but it was nothing like our dear Steve Rogers.

Here is the French translation of what Emily says: "Tu m'as failli me donner une crise cardiaque!" - You nearly gave me a heart attack; "Oui, je sais!" - Yes, I know; "Tu es une maudite vache" - You're an ass, Steve Rogers.

As always, thanks for reading! I hope a lot of this made sense to you, I know I'm still kind of confused by what I wrote. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! And let me know what you think!


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty-One

Emily looked at her reflection and sighed, regretting the bob haircut for the millionth time that night. There wasn't much she could do with it, but Em had managed to give it more volume and arranged her bangs so that they swept over her left eye. Huffing, she pulled her make up bag towards her and tilted her chin to better see the dark bruise covering her right cheek.

"Would you like some help with that?" Agent Carter asked. Em looked over at her and shrugged.

"Sure." The woman nodded and reached for the concealer.

"You don't get far in this business if you can't hide a bruise or two," she smirked, brushing a dot of the liquid onto Emily's cheek. "At least you were smart enough to put ice on it."

"Thanks," Em said. They were quiet as the agent worked, layers concealer and checking her work.

"My cousin is quite taken with you," Agent Carter said after tilting Emily's chin.

"Carter?" she couldn't help but smile.

"Yes." Emily hissed as Agent Carter pressed against the bruise. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she winced.

"He's my only family. More like a brother than a cousin."

"That's nice." Agent Carter set the bottle of concealer on the counter and washed her hands. Emily watched her and began to do the rest of her make up.

"I can take care of that knee if you'd like. Your dress isn't long enough to cover it." Emily nodded and continued her make up routine. It took a few times to get the liquid black eyeliner straight on her upper eyelid but she managed it in the end. Paired with the eye shadow, it was enough to draw attention away from her cheek, which she'd dusted with a light pink blush.

Having Agent Carter watch was somewhat disconcerting, but Emily had tried to imagine that it had been Jessica. Her niece had spent a lot of time hovering in the bathroom doorway when Emily had last visited her brother's house two years ago, trying to figure out how to apply makeup that her mother wouldn't let her have yet.

"Agent Car-"

"Sharon." Emily smiled as she applied mascara.

"Sharon, do you know how long Carter was watching me before I came to S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Which time?"

"He was watching me more than once?" Emily squeaked, turning to look at Sharon who merely shrugged.

"He's overly protective. I'm sure Dr. Thompson would say that stems from his relationship with his mother," she smirked as thought she didn't quite place all of her trust in the psychologist.

"His mother?"

"You should get dressed." Emily's curiosity was piqued, but it was clear that Sharon wasn't going to say much more.

OOO

Next door, Steve ran a comb through his hair before adjusting his tie. "Agent Sitwell has rearranged your flight itinerary," Agent Coulson stated as he walked back into the room. "You'll be leaving tonight out of Reagan National and have a stop in Chicago. It'll put you into Portland at three in the morning. It's an hour and a half drive to Tillamook."

"Alright," Steve nodded, reaching for his cufflinks. Emily had wanted him to buy the American flag ones ("But you're Captain America!" she'd teased), but he'd gone with the silver ones, and gotten the tie clip as well.

"She's almost ready," Agent Carter stated as she stepped into the room. "Getting dressed now." Steve glanced at the woman and gulped; the way her eyes were studying him was so reminiscent of Peggy. "Here, I'll do those." She walked over to him and plucked the cufflinks from his hand.

"I can do it." She shook her head, causing her brown hair to fall into her face, and pinched his left sleeve together. In a matter of seconds, she was done with both sleeves. Steve gulped again as she reached up and adjusted his tie and straightened the tie clip.

"Blue is a good color for you."

"Th-" he cleared his throat, "thank you. Emily chose it." Agent Carter nodded and stepped back.

"She'll be out in a second." Steve nodded as she stepped back into Emily's room. Coulson looked at the closed door and then at Steve.

"Carter was the only agent available at short notice." With a jerky nod, Steve retrieved his jacket and pulled it on.

OOO

Emily stood in front of the mirror and studied her reflection. The A-line dark burgundy dress fell to just below her knee and the ruching across the waist gathered on her left hip in a silver rhinestone starburst brooch. While she'd debated going strapless, Em had opted for cap sleeves and deep sweetheart neckline.

To her disappointment, that ugly bruise was still visible on her knee when she sat. When Sharon came back into the room, she'd taken one look at it before retrieving the makeup from the bathroom and getting to work. "Would you mind zipping me up?" Em asked once she was done. Sharon motioned for her to turn and did the hook and eye before zipped the last half an inch of the zipper.

With a critical glance, Sharon nodded her approval. Emily smiled and slipped on her black heels. They were higher than she normally went with but they'd been too cute to pass up, especially on sale. However, with her hurt knee, it was going to make walking interesting. She took a tentative step and tried to disguise her limp. It worked moderately well, and Em was glad that they were going to be sitting most of the night. The aspirin she'd taken a few hours before was starting to wear off.

"Dr. Harthorn," Agent Coulson said, knocking on the door. "We need to go."

"Just a second," she called, grabbing her purse and transferring the minimal amount of things into a small black clutch as Sharon opened the adjacent door and went to join Steve and Coulson. "Alright I'm ready."

Steve had his back to her, but she smiled when he turned. The grey suit was a good choice, especially coupled with the blue shirt and tie. Em pushed away the though immediate thought of 'Oh dear god' and tried to ignore the sudden hitch in her breath. "You clean up nice, Captain."

"You look," Steve struggled to find the word. "Amazing." Emily grinned, ignoring the small twinge of pain in her temple.

"Ready?" she asked, glancing at Sharon and Coulson. Both agents nodded and exited the room. "Alright, I'm going to need a favor tonight."

"Sure," Steve said quickly.

"Make sure I don't fall," Em laughed, pointing her toe and rotating her ankle. "I'm afraid my knee is going to give out in these." Steve's eyes raked over her leg and he quickly looked away as he blushed. He'd been momentarily taken back by the red dress, but the normal pang longing for Peggy that he'd come to expect with such reminders hadn't come.

"Of course," he agreed, holding out his arm for her. Emily smiled and threaded her arm thorough his.

"Are you ready for this?"

"As much as I'll ever be."

OOO

"We'll be outside if you need anything," Coulson said as he pulled the car up to the Georgetown restaurant. Steve nodded before opening his car door, but Emily hesitated.

"You don't expect anything to happen, do you?" She could hear the soft huff from Sharon, but Coulson smiled and shook his head.

"No, this is just a precaution."

"Okay," she smiled back, feeling a bit more assured. Part of her had expected S.H.I.E.L.D. to demand that they return to New York right away, but Em was glad they were letting them do this. It was important to Steve.

Her hand had barely touched the door handle when it opened and Steve held out a hand for her. "Thanks," she said, stepping out of the car and smoothing down her dress. Steve nodded and shut the door, raising his hand to Coulson and Agent Carter as they pulled away from the curb.

The restaurant was two storied Federal period house with a large bay window that overlooked the street. Wrought iron handrails were by the door, which was illuminated by antique street lamps. Em had done her research before hand and knew that there were six dining rooms, all with a different theme and furnished with antiques. They'd barely stepped foot in the restaurant when the hostess greeted them.

"Hello, welcome to 1789. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," Emily answered. "We're with Senator Jones." The woman ran her finger down a list before nodding.

"The rest of your party hasn't arrived. Would you like to wait for them or be seated?" Em glanced at Steve, who shrugged.

"We'll wait." It would be easier to have the initial meeting away from prying eyes. They stepped back out onto the street and noticed Coulson's car sitting just up the street on the other side of the road. "Aren't you glad I made you get the suit?" she teased. Steve nodded and looked up the street as if on alert. "Relax."

"Sorry," he sighed. Emily squeezed his arm and leaned against him.

"We're out of here in a few hours." Steve nodded again and looked down at her, his eyes examining her cheek. "Sharon did a good job, didn't she?"

"I wish she hadn't needed to."

"It's done now. No use wishing for things you can't change." Steve looked like he was about to say something when another car pulled up. A valet rushed over and held open the passengers side door, revealing an older African-American man. A middle-aged woman in a black dress hurried around to help him.

"Ready, Dad?" she said quietly, holding out her hands to help him stand.

"I've got it, Cora. I'm not dead yet." Steve grasped Emily's hand and squeezed as he recognized the voice. It was older, gruffer, but there was no denying it. When the man straightened up, Steve got a good look at his friend. Gabe was older, and he'd expected that, but it was still a shock. White curls were clipped close to his head, and a long goatee covered his chin. His once smooth face was now wrinkled, but his brown eyes were just as sharp as ever. Gabe and Steve looked at each other for a long moment before Gabe spoke. "Dear god."

"Dad?" the woman said, following his gaze. Her mouth fell open slightly when she saw Steve standing there.

"Gabe," Steve said before clearing his throat. "Gabe Jones?"

"Rogers?" Senator Jones said, his voice wavering slightly. Emily let go of Steve's hand as he walked towards the older man. "You haven't aged a day."

"It-it's good to see you," Steve smiled, holding out his hand. Gabe looked at it for a moment before grasping it and shaking it. After a moment, he threw his arm around Steve's neck and hugged him. Emily could see his shoulders shaking slightly, and his daughter was rubbing his back.

"We thought you were dead," Gabe said as he pulled away, still resting his hands on Steve's shoulders. There were tears glistening in his eyes.

"So did I," Steve said, a slight catch in his voice. Gabe shook his head and reached for the woman who was staring open mouthed.

"This is my daughter Cora. Cora, this is Captain Steve Rogers. He saved my life during the war."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Steve said, shaking her hand. "And Gabe saved my life a few times too."

"I didn't expect you to be so young," Cora shook her head. Steve nodded and looked over his shoulder to where Emily was watching.

"I've got her grandfather to thank for that." When he held out a hand for her, Emily walked over, forcing herself not to limp. "This is-"

"Dr. Harthorn," Gabe finished, reaching out take her hand in both of his. "It's nice to meet you."

"Same," she replied. The Senator squeezed her hand and winked.

"I think you might have scared my secretary. She thought I'd lost my mind after your phone call." Emily flushed, remembering how hard it had been to get the Senator on the phone. It had only been after she'd agreed to leave a message that Captain Rogers had been recovered and wanted to meet that she'd gotten anywhere. An hour after Emily had called, Senator Jones had called back.

"Sorry about that." He waved off his apology and clapped Steve on the shoulder as Cora and Emily said hello.

"I'm starved. Ready to go in?" They all murmured their agreement and walked into the restaurant, with Cora helping her father and Steve holding the door open for all of them. The hostess quickly showed them to their table.

"This is the John Carroll Room," the woman said as she led them into a beautiful room. The walls were mint green and covered with framed prints portraying early America, and paintings of Georgetown University. Small silver buckets with flowers and small lamps served as centerpieces. The foursome wound their way through the diners until they reached a table to the left of the fireplace. The Senator and his daughter took the chairs while Steve and Emily slid into the booth side of the table. "Your waiter will be with you shortly."

"I still can't believe your sitting in front of me," Gabe said. "How is it possible?" They held off their conversation while their waiter came and took their drink orders.

"I'm not exactly sure what happened," Steve shrugged. Under the table he took Emily's hand, needing something to ground him in the moment. "The scientists at S.H.I.E.L.D. think it was Erskine's formula."

"The one that did this to you," Cora asked. Steve nodded.

"It protects my cells. And with the ice," he shuddered slightly, "I was frozen."

"Kind of like cryogenic freezing," Emily supplied.

"And it was your grandfather who developed the formula?" Cora asked. "Sorry, Dad gave me some information when we were coming over but not much."

"Don't worry," Emily laughed. "I'm learning as I go, too." Cora smiled as the waiter appeared with a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. They had to ask for another moment to look at the appetizers.

"To old friends," Gabe said, holding up his glass.

"To old friends," Steve, Cora, and Emily echoed before tapping glasses and taking a sip. Emily knew that she shouldn't drink because her headache was coming back quickly, but it was a good red. They were distracted for a moment trying to figure out what they would eat. Emily whispered her suggestions to Steve after he'd given her a lost look; the food was a lot fancier than he'd had before. In the end, they both decided on the home grown salad for an appetizer, while Emily ordered the pork loin and Steve chose the lamb shoulder.

"So you're a Senator now," Steve said after the waiter had disappeared again.

"Second term," Gabe nodded. "Spent some time in the House but finally decided to upgrade." Emily let herself tone out of the conversation as her head throbbed again. With years of practice, she was able to look engaged in the conversation while not truly following it. When she felt a foot nudge hers under the table, however, she looked at Cora.

"If you'd excuse me for a moment," the woman said.

"Me too," Emily added, removing her napkin from her lap. She gave Steve's hand a squeeze and stood up, and she saw Cora touch her father's shoulder before they left the table.

"I thought they could use a moment alone," Cora said as they walked into the bathroom.

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "How's your dad holding up?"

"He was nervous," Cora said, "but I think he's doing okay now. Steve?" Emily flexed her hand and laughed.

"Same." She closed her eyes as her head throbbed again, and pressed a two fingers to her temple.

"Headache?" Em nodded and forced her eyes open. "Here, these work wonders." Cora handed her a small white packet, "but I'll warn you, they might make you really tired."

"Thanks." The tablet melted on her tongue and left a bitter aftertaste. "Think we gave them enough time?"

"Another minute or so won't hurt. Did you get involved in all of this because of your grandfather?"

"Partially. I specialize in World War II propaganda, so that might have tipped the job in my favor."

"I'm a high school history teacher, myself," Cora smiled. "I usually have Dad come in and talk to my students about World War II. I still can't believe that's the man Dad use to tell us stories about."

"I pinch myself every day," Em laughed. "Trust me, the disbelief hasn't worn off." They chatted about teaching experiences for another minute or so before walking back to the table. Their appetizers had arrived, and both men looked deep in conversation, which they broke off when they saw Cora and Em arrive.

"We were wondering where you'd disappeared to," Gabe joked as they took their seats. "Your food is getting cold."

"It's a cold soup, Dad," Cora smirked. Emily smiled at Steve before picking up her fork and picking at the salad. The Senator asked her a little about herself as they ate, and she turned the tables on him when they finished. He smiled when he talked his activism during the Civil Rights Movement, and how he'd met Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Steve was able to follow the conversation, as Emily had made sure they covered the entirety of the movement before they'd gotten to DC.

When the main course arrived, Steve and Gabe began to reminisce about some of their missions. Cora, who had apparently heard quite a few of the stories, merely smiled over her wine glass and nodded along. Emily, however, wished that she had her digital recorder. Steve seemed relaxed; he laughing at memories of their squad's down time, trying to remember exact phrasings of badly told jokes, and blushing when he realized they weren't "suitable for women's ears".

Steve sobered somewhat when the topic of family came up. Gabe had had three children, Cora and her younger twin brothers, Joseph and Thomas. When he'd pulled out pictures of his grandchildren, Emily and Steve had made the appropriate comments, asking about their age and interests, but he'd grabbed her hand under the table again.

"Emily," Steve said quietly as Cora and Gabe put the pictures away.

"Hmm?" He nodded towards the entrance to the room and she followed his gaze, her stomach dropping when she saw Agent Coulson standing there. Gabe looked up and turned to see what was holding their attention.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Yes," Steve answered. "If you'd excuse me for a minute." Emily stood up and stepped out of the way as Steve brushed past her, his strides quickly covering the area between Coulson and himself.

"Emily?" Cora pressed.

"I'm sure everything's okay," she said, even as she felt her heart start to race. When Steve turned and met her gaze, Em knew something was wrong. He turned back to Coulson for a moment before walking back to the table.

"I'm sorry, but we have to leave."

"What?" Emily asked.

"What's wrong?" Cora said.

"Go," Gabe nodded. He alone recognized order in Steve's voice, and Gabe knew that Steve wouldn't run out unless something was going on.

"Thank you," Steve said, reaching to shake his friend's hand.

"I'll be back in New York soon. Maybe we can do this again."

"Of course."

"We have to pay the bill," Emily said.

"Coulson's getting it for us," Steve assured her. It only took another moment for the waiter to appear with the check, and Steve quickly put a few bills in after quickly scanning it. When Emily protested that she wanted to pay her part, he shook his head. "Gabe, it was wonderful seeing you again. Cora, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too," Cora said, confusion evident in her tone.

"Good luck with your class," Emily said as she grabbed her clutch. "Senator, I'll program your phone number into Steve's phone." Their goodbyes were hurried and a moment later, Steve was rushing her from the restaurant and into he car. "What is it?" she demanded as Coulson shut the door behind her.

"Blonsky," Sharon said from the driver's seat. "He's gone rogue."

"But you said the Chief of Staff stepped in."

"He's British Royal Marines," Sharon snapped as she pulled away from the curb with a squeal of the tires. "He doesn't have to answer to the Chief of Staff. And it's not like they could easily stop him if they wanted to."

"Where is he now?" Steve asked.

"We're not sure. Sanders called Fury a few minutes ago. We don't know how much of a head start he's gotten," Coulson said. "So we're getting you out of here."

"Back to New York?"

"No, he'll look for you there. It's safest if you go to Oregon as planned." Emily reached over and grabbed Steve's hand, squeezing it hard. Even with traffic, Sharon got them across DC in record time, and the car wasn't even stopped when Coulson had thrown open the door at their hotel.

"Wait here," Sharon said, "we'll get your things and be back in a moment."

"Here," Coulson said, pulling a gun from his chest holster, and handing it to Steve. Emily watched with wide eyes and shuddered. "Just a precaution," he added.

"That's what you said at the restaurant," she muttered, which caused the corner of his mouth to twitch. When the door shut, Emily moved as far from Steve as she could. "I hate guns," she said under her breath.

"That's probably because you haven't used one," Steve replied, as if she's spoken at normal volume. He was on high alert, looking around the windows for any sign of a threat. "When we get back home, I'm taking you to a shooting range."

"That's not going to happen." She started to pull off her jewelry and tossed it into her clutch. It took some wiggling for her to get the brooch off her hip but she managed it. "Give me your arm."

"What?" Steve asked, turning to glance out the back window.

"Keep that away from me, and give me your arm." He raised an eyebrow but did so, and Emily took off the cufflink. "We need to get through security quick. Other arm." She froze when he passed the gun to his right hand, bringing it closer towards her, but she quickly undid the cufflink and pushed his arm away. Steve was so focused that he didn't even blush when she removed his tie clip. "Any other metal on you?" His money clip and compass soon joined the other items in her clutch.

Emily turned in time to see Coulson and Sharon emerge from the hotel. They quickly threw the bags into the trunk and jumped in the car, Sharon behind the wheel again. Steve returned the gun to its owner as they drove away.

"You need to get the first flight out of here," Coulson said. "We're going to try for Chicago, Atlanta, or Houston. Los Angeles as a last resort."

OOO

Emily collapsed into her seat and pressed a hand to her chest. It had been an all out sprint to catch the plane. With her knee and heels, Steve may or may not have half carried her across the airport.

Coulson had gotten them tickets on a flight to Atlanta after confirming that there was a connection to Portland in the morning. They would have to spend the night in Georgia, but at least they'd be out of Blonsky's reach.

"You okay," Steve asked, pulling Emily out of her thoughts. She shook her head and held out her hand as the plane pushed away from the gate.

"Can today just be over already?" Steve took her hand and squeezed it.

"It almost is," he assured her. Emily sighed and put her head on his shoulder.

"Thank god." Once they were up in the air, Emily helped Steve put his cufflinks back on, and he helped her with the clasp on her locket. Exhausted, she fell asleep leaning against him, and he woke her up only long enough to push the armrest up, drape his jacket over her, and to put his arm around her so that she was more comfortable.

When they hit turbulence, Steve tightened his hold on Emily. Touching down in Atlanta had been nerve wracking for him because it had begun to storm. But Emily had held threaded her fingers through his and assured him she'd flown through worse.

OOO

Emily flicked on the light of the hotel room and stepped in, pausing only to kick off her heels and set down her bag, and flung herself onto the bed. Steve set their bags down and smiled at the sight of her curled up. "You should probably change," he said.

"You first," she groaned, pulling his jacket over her like a blanket. Steve laughed and undid his tie and cufflinks before retrieving his nightclothes and toothbrush from his suitcase and retreating to the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later and gently shook Emily awake. With a sigh, she stood up and shrugged off his jacket. "Can you unzip me?"

"What?" he blushed when he took the jacket from her.

"Please? I can't do it." Steve cleared his throat as Emily turned so her back was to him. "There's a hook at the top, too." The zipper was easy enough, but his finger seemed to fumble on the hook, which made Emily laugh. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." When she went into the bathroom, he took a blanket from the closet and one of the pillows, and sat in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked when she came out. His eyes were drawn to the bruise on her cheek, which had gotten darker.

"You can have the bed. I'm fine here." She put her hands on her fist and raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Don't be ridiculous." She climbed into the bed started to make herself comfortable. Steve looked up from the chair and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What?"

"This is a king sized bed," she stated, reaching over and pulling down the covers on the other side. "It's big enough for both of us."

"I'm fine here," he repeated.

"Really? With your feet hanging off and curled up like that? I don't think so." Emily narrowed her eyes and pointed to the bed. "Get in." When he didn't move, she huffed and grabbed one of the pillows, placing it between her and the empty space. "There, we have no-mans land."

"Emily," he sighed, exasperation creeping into his voice.

"No. You're taller than me, I'd be more comfortable on that than you would," Emily said, nodding towards the chair.

"That wouldn't be right."

"Why? Because I'm a woman?" The way he flushed let her know that was exactly why. "Fine. Then I'll sleep on the floor." When she grabbed the pillow and threw off the covers, Steve sat up.

"Emily, keep the bed."

"Steve, get in bed." She flushed, realizing what she'd just said, but kept her steely gaze trained on him. When he didn't move, she stood up and began pulling the top cover off.

"Fine," he said, pulling off the thin blanket and standing up. He retrieved the pillow and folded the blanket while Emily fixed the bed and climbed back in.

"It would have been a lot easier if you'd just have given in in the first place," she muttered, punching the pillow into a more comfortable shape. When she felt the other side of the bed depress, she turned to see a very embarrassed Steve sliding between the sheets. "I don't bite."

"This isn't right," was all he said before turning on his side to face the wall. Emily shook her head and turned off the light.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Steve replied. To say he was uncomfortable with this situation was an understatement. It wasn't right that he was sharing a bed with a woman who wasn't his wife. He decided that as soon as she fell asleep, he'd get back into the chair. Emily could be angry in the morning, but he wouldn't mind.

Truth be told, he was a lot more comfortable (physically) on the bed than in the chair. That was, until Emily shifted and he tensed again. It was the first time he'd shared a bed with anyone in a long time. The fact that it was Emily just made it worse. Steve forced himself to stay awake.

But as he listened, he could hear her breathing becoming steadier. The fatigue he'd felt for the past few days washed over him as he listened to her breathing in and out…

OOO

_Flares lit the night sky as Steve ran towards his squad and mortars struck the ground, heaving dirt and rocks into the air. The sound of men yelling and rapid gunfire filled his ears as he jumped into a trench and threw an arm over his head as dirt rained down on them. "Everyone okay?" he asked. Bucky and Dum Dum nodded as Dernier cursed in French. Gabe laughed and clapped the Frenchman on the shoulder._

"_We stay here much longer and we'll get pinned," Falsworth said, peeking over the rim of the trench before he quickly pulled his head down as a bullet whizzed by. _

"_He's right," Morita agreed. "There's at least five mortar companies between us and-"_

"_You girls going to stay in there or come out and join the fight?" 'Lucky' Jim Logan asked, leveling his gun and shooting an oncoming Nazi. Steve held up his shield and put a hand on the rim of the trench before hoisting himself out. Logan fell in step with him as they charged, bullets hitting the shield and ricochet off. _

_There was a loud whistling and Steve dove to the side, pulling Logan out of the way of the mortar. The explosion was nearly deafening, and he could feel the debris hitting his back._

OOO

Lighting flashed as Emily opened her eyes and blearily looked at the alarm clock. It was nearly two in the morning, and she tried to figure out what had woken her up. For a moment she thought it was the thunder until she heard Steve groan.

Emily sat up and blinked, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Hey." Steve didn't answer, but thrashed again in his sleep. "Steve, wake up." Feeling slightly panicky, Em reached over and turned on the lamp, blinking at the sudden brightness.

Steve was pale and a slight sheen of sweat covered his brow. The blankets were bunched at his feet and he was groaning into the pillow. "Steve," Emily said again, kicking off the blankets and throwing the no-man's land pillow out of the way. "Hey, come on, wake up." Although she wanted to shake him, the last time she'd done that, she'd ended up with a fat lip. Instead, she hurried to the bathroom and ran a washcloth under the cold tap. Once it was wrung out, she went back to the bed and sat on the edge beside him.

Emily pressed the cloth to his face and tensed as he did. "Down," Steve groaned.

"Steve," she said, "you're not there. Wake up." When another crash of thunder echoed through the room, Steve's eyes flew open. "Good, you-"

Emily inhaled sharply as Steve launched himself at her and wrapped his arms around her. Instinctively, she had thrown her arms up to protect her face, expecting some sort of attack, but he pulled her close and rolled off of the bed. He let out a small "oof" when his back collided with the floor before he rolled over so that he was lying on top of her. Steve threw an arm over his head and bent close over her, his eyes squeezed shut.

Beneath him, Em was frozen. Her heart was racing and it was somewhat hard to breathe with his weight on her. Slowly, she lowered her arms and looked at Steve. His breath was hot on her face, and she could feel him breathing quickly. His eyebrows were furrowed with a look of deepest concentration, as though expecting something to happen. "Steve?" she said cautiously. He didn't respond. "Steve? Sweetheart?" Em cautiously brushed his hair from his face.

When Steve's blue eyes opened, she could tell that he was still sleeping, locked away in some dream. She took as deep a breath as she could manage with him lying on top of her and tried to remember what Garrett's psychologist had told her to do in these situations. Her eyes darted around the surrounding area and she let out a sigh of relief when she saw there was nothing he could hurt himself with. One thing that went right. She groaned slightly when she remembered the second part: don't try to wake him. Instead, he'd suggest that Emily try to soothe Garrett enough so that he would fall into a normal sleep.

"Hey," she said, forcing her voice to be calm. "I'm right here. You're alright." Em almost said that it was just a dream, but she caught herself. The psychologist had warned her that it might make Garrett more violent. Instead, Emily maneuvered her arm so that she could cup his cheek. "I've got you, Steve." It was slightly unnerving how he was looking at her, but there was no flicker of recognition in his eyes. "I'm right here, Honey." Emily started to stroke his cheek, and his eyes were starting to drift shut. That was, until another clap of thunder sounded.

"Mortars," Steve mumbled, his eyes snapping open again.

"Shhh," Emily said, "there's no mortars, mon grand. It's just thunder… c'est tout." In her mind, she was running through the other suggestions. Hugging? Not likely with one arm pinned to her chest. White noise? No way of generating it. Playing music? Em thought about it for a moment and huffed, causing Steve's hair to shift. She was not a singer, unless it was alone or in the car. But then Steve's body jolted against hers as the loudest thunderclap roared.

"Des yeux qui font baiser les miens," she sang the first song that came into her head. Well, not sang as much as quietly spoke the words. "Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche. Voila le portrait sans retouche, de l'homme auquel, j'appartiens." By the time she'd started the second chorus of La Vie En Rose, Steve's eyes were shut and his head was resting on Emily's shoulder.

"Okay," she said softly, trying to pull in another deep breath. Now for the tricky part: Steve was dead weight lying on top of her and she needed to move him. She wrapped her free hand around the back of his neck and her legs around his. With a sudden movement, she arched against him and used the momentum to roll him to the side. Steve arm tensed around her as she tried to roll off of him. Sighing, she reached back and broke his hold on her waist.

There was no way Em was going to be able to lift him into the bed. Instead, she reached up and pulled one of the pillows off and put it under his head. Before she could pull off one of the blankets, however, Steve woke up. "Emily?" he said, his voice groggy.

"Hey," Em sighed. He looked around and frowned.

"Why am I on the floor?" Mentally, she shook her head. Forgetting what happened during a night terror was common, but she didn't exactly feel like telling him about his sleep heroics.

"You rolled out of bed," she lied while standing up. His eyes darted to the window as another flash of lighting shone through the thin curtains, and then back to her.

"That's all?"

"That's all," Emily echoed, holding out a hand to him. He took it, but barely relied on her to help him stand.

"Sorry for waking you up," Steve said, blushing slightly. Em waved off his remarks and bent to retrieve the pillow and washcloth. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as she limped to the air conditioner and fiddled with the knobs until it kicked on with a rattling sound, before walking to the bathroom.

She stepped inside, out of Steve's line of sight, and let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Em held up her hand and realized it was shaking badly. Angrily, she shook it, willing her nerves to calm. With another deep breath, she stepped back into the main room, leaving the light on and half closing the bathroom door. Steve watched as she walked back over to the bed and sat next to him.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked quietly.

"A bit," she replied.

"You should get some sleep." When Steve stood up, Emily grabbed his arm.

"Didn't we have this conversation already? You're not sleeping on that chair."

"Emily-"

"Steve-" she mocked his weary tone. When he turned to face her, she smirked. "You won't win, I promise you. I'm just as stubborn as you are."

"Fine," Steve sighed. Emily nodded and walked over to her side of the bed and climbed in. She waited until Steve had settled down as well, lying on his back, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Sweet dreams," she said before reaching over and turning off the light. Steve blushed bright red.

It didn't take Emily long to fall into a light sleep again, but Steve lay awake staring at the ceiling. He didn't feel safe falling asleep again, sure that he would have another nightmare. Even though Emily had lied, he knew what had happened. Steve had woken up on the floor quite a few times, and Dr. Thompson had said it was probably due to night terrors.

His hand drifted to his temple and he rubbed where Emily's lips had touched, and he turned to look at her. In the flashes of lightning, he could see her; one of her hands was under the pillow and the other was by her cheek. Her lips were parted slightly, and he hadn't noticed her long eyelashes before.

Steve shook himself and forced his eyes shut. Dr. Thompson had given him a few techniques for dealing with nightmares. He forced himself to think of pleasant memories. He pictured standing in his parents home, watching his mother put dinner on the table. Playing stick ball with Bucky. Trips to Coney Island. Art classes…

Emily woke up when she felt Steve shifting next to her. Worried, she turned sat up and saw that he was frowning in his sleep. "Steve," she whispered, scooting closer to him, "it's okay." She smiled into the pillow when she saw his forehead smooth, as if the dream had turned pleasant. Hesitantly, afraid that the motion would wake him, she moved the hair from his face.

He looked young, she decided, pulling her hand back to rest on her pillow. It was so easy to forget that he was only twenty-five, when he acted more like a forty-year-old man.

Em's eyes drifted shut again as she reached out and put her hand on his forearm.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Super long chapter! Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks again to **blown-transistor. **You've got her to credit for a new nightmare sequence. I had one that involved Peggy and Emily just comforting him when he woke up, but she chose this version.

Well, a lot of people don't seem to like Sharon. I will admit, I kind of fall into that category, but oh well, she had to make an appearance. What do you think she meant about Carter's mother? Hum?

And I kind of feel like I copped out with the dinner, but I honestly don't have much to go with for Gabe. I really liked him in the movie, but I couldn't find a lot of stuff on his character in the comics. SO I made it up. When I was writing him, I pictured Bill Cobbs as older Gabe Jones. The restaurant that I used is real and oh dear god, do I want to go there one day. The place is gorgeous.

With the dream, I've tried to keep as close to what would really happen with PTSD as possible. But most of my information comes from internet searches and (unashamedly) Grey's Anatomy. Emily turned on the air conditioner because people dream less when they're cold, and the light would help Steve realize where he was upon waking up. With night terrors, I had to use suggestions for what to do with comforting children, since there isn't a lot of information on PTSD night terrors. The French used translates as: 'mon grand' is a term of endearment meaning 'my big guy' and 'c'est tout' is that's all/that's it. The song is La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf (which has made an appearance in the story before, as it's Emily's favorite song). And yes, there is the Logan/Wolverine cameo some of you have asked for =]

As always, thank you so much for reading this. I really didn't expect this kind of reaction when I wrote it, and you guys have blown me away. If you ever feel like some gets out of character or something is blatantly wrong, let me know! I respond to every signed review and message (a special thank you to those of you who don't have an account. I appreciate you guys as well!).


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

_Look into your heart pretty baby  
Is it achin' with some nameless need?  
Is there somethin' wrong  
And you can't put your finger on it?  
Right then, roll to me_

_And I don't think_  
_I have ever seen a soul so in despair_  
_So if you want to talk the night through_  
_Guess who will be there?_  
_  
_

_Roll to Me by Del Amitri_

* * *

Steve was surprised when he woke up in the morning. He'd slept. No more nightmares had woken him up. But that hadn't been the only surprise.

He looked down at his arm and saw Emily's hand resting on it. The spot felt warmer than the rest of his arm. The cotton of her sleep pants pressed against his leg, and when he moved his foot, he felt it connect with her ankle. When Emily frowned in her sleep, he immediately moved his foot again. She was so close to him that he could count the light freckles spattered across her nose and cheeks.

Perhaps most embarrassing was that he had a certain morning visitor. Steve blushed furiously. He hadn't had to deal with this problem since before the crash, and certainly never with a woman present. Steve was just about to make a dash for the bathroom when Emily stirred again as the alarm clock began to beep. He shut his eyes quickly and pretended to be asleep.

Emily blindly reached onto the beside table and felt for the off button before rolling back onto her side, nuzzling into the pillow. After a few more minutes of resting, she opened her eyes and immediately her vision was filled with Steve. Em smiled when she saw him still asleep, and wasn't able to keep herself from reaching out and swiping the hair from his face once she'd turned off the alarm. When she saw his jaw tighten, she pulled away and rolled out of bed, sitting on the edge and stretching her arms over her head. Em let out a satisfied moan when she felt her back and neck pop. With another glance at Steve, she got out of bed and walked to her suitcase to retrieve her toiletries and clothing before retreating to the bathroom.

She was going to be the death of him, Steve thought as the bathroom door shut and he finally let himself breathe. With touching his face, and that breathy moan, Steve didn't know how he'd maintained control of himself. And then she'd taken his exit strategy. When he heard the water turn on, all he could think about was that there was a naked woman standing a few feet from him. What he needed right now was a _very_ cold shower. His hatred of the cold aside, it was becoming a necessity.

Steve rolled and pressed his face into the pillow, trying to think of mundane things that would allow him some semblance of control. He _would not_ allow himself to lose it, not in the bed that they'd shared. Not with her so close by.

It took some time for him to calm down enough to get out of bed and gather his things for the shower in time for the water to be turned off. But all of his hard work was nearly undone when he glanced towards Emily's suitcase. He sat down on the bed and placed his clothes over himself.

Inside the bathroom, Emily was unaware of the mammoth struggle Steve was having. She toweled off before examining her bruises which had continued to darken overnight, and was extremely happy that her knee wasn't hurting as much as it had. When she began to dress, however, she realized something important was missing.

Her panties.

Emily searched the bathroom but couldn't find them anywhere. Suppressing a sigh, she put on her bra and black v-neck tee, pausing to adjust her cleavage, before slipping on her jeans. And yes, there they were. Emily stepped out of the bathroom and walked to her suitcase and picked up the lacy pile, just as she caught sight of Steve staring pointedly at the wall. "Morning," she said, blushing as she crumpled them in her hand.

"Morning," he replied after gulping. "You done in there?"

"One more minute," she said before darting back in and wiggling into her underwear. Em gathered her things and walked out. "All yours."

"Thanks," Steve said, standing stiffly. Emily moved out of the way as he hurried to the bathroom and shut the door quickly. Shaking her head, she moved towards her suitcase and removed her make up, tossing her dirty clothes into a plastic bag she'd brought.

Steve still hadn't reappeared by the time she'd applied her make up and watched a news cycle. In fact, she could still hear the water going. When her stomach gurgled, Em sighed and knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, I'm going to go down and get breakfast. Want me to bring you back something?"

"C-coffee!" she heard him stutter.

"Everything okay?"

"Fine!" Em raised an eyebrow but grabbed a room key and made her way to the lobby.

In the bathroom, Steve finally moved the tap to warm water.

OOO

"Oh my god," Emily said when she walked back into the room and saw Steve's red skin. He turned quickly and tugged his white undershirt in place. "Did you make the water too hot?"

"I'm fine," he blushed, making his face match the rest of his body. Emily sighed and held out a coffee cup to him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Steve took a sip of the coffee and pulled on his button up while Emily walked to the bed and began to make it. "I told the front desk we'd need the shuttle in forty-five minutes."

"Ok," Steve said, walking over to help her with the bed. She rolled her eyes when he flipped up the covers and sheets, and began to do the hospital corners the Army was famous for.

"It doesn't have to be perfect, Steve. They're just going to come and change it anyways." He looked slightly abashed when he saw Emily's expression. "Oh, this is for you by the way," she said, pulling four twenty-dollar bills fresh from the ATM from her back pocket. "For dinner last night."

"It's my treat."

"No, here," she stretched out to hand him the cash. Steve sighed and reached to meet her hand, but pushed it back towards her.

"Can you just let me buy you dinner for once?"

"I told you," she sighed, walking over to him, "no buying me meals." Emily tried to place the money in the pocket of his shirt but he stepped back out of her reach.

"We agreed to disagree, if I remember correctly," he said, continuing to take steps backward as she advanced. "You shook on it."

"Well, we're going to agree that this isn't one of those times," she smirked as he was trapped against the wall. But when she tried put the money in his pocket, Steve caught her wrist. Em narrowed her eyes and transferred the money to her other hand and attempted to put it in his pants pocket. Steve blushed as he jumped out of her reach and captured her other wrist. In a quick movement, he pinned her arms behind her back, which forced her to take a step towards him.

"I bought you dinner," he said, leaning over her. She was quiet for a moment before huffing.

"You win this round, _Monsieur Rogers_," Emily quirked an eyebrow. "Next time you won't be so lucky." Steve smiled and let her go; she'd said his name in French again. When she gently shoved him, he laughed; this wasn't something he was used to, an easy back and forth with a woman.

Steve continued to make the bed while Emily repacked her suitcase. It was only when she'd pestered him to go eat something that he left the room, allowing her some time alone. She sat on the corner of the bed and put her head in her hands. Last night's events had shaken her.

There had been a few nights with Garrett that had ended badly. He'd always felt horrible when he saw her with a swollen lip or a bruised wrist from her attempts to calm him. One of the worst had been when she'd locked herself in the bathroom to keep him away from her. Em knew that as a member of Special Forces, Garrett had seen a lot of bad things and completely understood why these translated into nightmares, but waking up with Garrett looming over her in the dark had nearly scared her to death. She'd started to sleep with a canister of pepper spray under her pillow just in case. There had been nights when she'd fallen asleep in the graduate reading lounge or in her office, desperately needing a night's sleep.

When Em heard the soft 'click' of the lock, she stood up and grabbed the t-shirt she'd placed next to her. She looked at the television and tried to appear engrossed in the story as she folded the shirt. "The car is here if you're ready," Steve said.

"Has it been forty-five minutes already?" Emily asked, frowning.

"No, it's here early."

"Well, no use staying here if we don't have to. It might actually be better if we go early."

"Oh?"

"I've never flown through Atlanta before, so I don't know the terminal layout."

OOO

After the five-hour flight, Steve was ready to be on the ground. He'd tried to concentrate on the book Emily had lent him, but it was hard to do when they hit frequent turbulence. With Emily clicking away on her computer, he'd felt bad about interrupting her, even though she'd told him editing was completely boring and she didn't understand why students asked her for letters of recommendation.

"Nothing?" Emily sighed.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but we don't have any automatics left," the man behind the car rental desk said. "We had a lot of flight cancellations last night and we're still waiting on a few to be turned in."

"But we have an automatic reserved."

"For later in the day," he replied. "If you'd like to wait, we're having another branch bring over some cars in an hour."

"I can drive," Steve offered. Emily regarded him for a moment before sighing.

"Does it at least have SAT NAV?"

"Not on this model, but I can give you directions to wherever you're going."

"That'll be fine. Do you have a map?" Steve asked. The other man seemed happy to be dealing with Steve instead of Emily. Recognizing that she was no longer in charge, Em stepped to the side and let Steve sign the rental agreement and handed over his S.H.I.E.L.D. credit card. She only spoke up when the agent asked for the address they were going to.

"We'll just do a walk around the car to make sure you don't get charged for any damages," the man said, grabbing a clipboard and walking around the counter. He motioned for Steve and Emily to follow him to a small grey sedan parked in a nearly empty lot. A few minutes later, the two hit the road.

Steve seemed at home behind the wheel, easily pulling the car out of the parking spot and driving towards the exit. "You don't know how to drive like this?" Steve asked after they'd hit the highway.

"There's a reason automatics are more popular," Emily shrugged while rummaging in her purse for her glasses.

"Have you tried?"

"Not since high school." When he quirked an eyebrow, as if asking why, she chuckled. "The guy I was dating wanted to teach me how to drive a manual and thought the best way to do that was by putting the car in drive and jumping out." Steve looked over at her and grinned.

"That's good motivation to learn."

"Yeah. 'Cause having to scramble into the driver's seat to keep from crashing into a brick wall is exactly what every girl wants to do on a date."

"I could teach you," he offered.

"I'm not learning on a rental car. And besides, I'm never going to own a manual so I don't need to know how."

"It's a good skill to have."

"So is basic accounting, and yet I still pay for someone else to do my taxes," Emily glanced sideways at him before putting on her glasses, glad that she'd paid the extra expense to have the Transition lenses put on. Blonsky had cracked the lenses of her sunglasses. "Sorry about crashing last night. I'd wanted to ask if you were okay after the dinner."

"I'm fine."

"Seriously?" Emily sighed, turning in her seat to face him. "If I hear 'I'm fine' one more time, I'm going to scream. Use another adjective! Or better yet, more words."

"Um," Steve chanced a glance at her before turning his attention to the road. "What happened to your glasses?"

"Stop changing the subject."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I would hit you right now if I didn't think we might go off the road." The corner of Steve's mouth twitched; he knew how hard she hit and, although it had improved, wouldn't cause him to crash. "Maybe, 'You know, Em, I wasn't quite prepared to see Senator Jones but hey, I'm glad we did it'."

"You know, Emily, I wasn't quite prepared to see Gabe, but hey, I'm glad we did it." She groaned in frustration and turned in her seat. Steve took his hand off of the shifter and reached for hers, but Em crossed her arms and looked out the window. He sighed, realizing that she was annoyed with him. "Emily." She didn't say anything. "I'm sorry." She huffed. "I don't know how to talk to about stuff like that."

"You talk to Thompson," she said, still looking out the window. He didn't know what to say to that; it was easier talking to Thompson.

"That's different."

"If you say so." Steve looked over at her when she turned and fiddled with the radio. She must have recognized song, because she landed on a frequency and settled back into her seat, still not meeting his gaze. After a minute of listening to the 'music' and organizing his thoughts, he turned down the radio.

"I didn't think he would look so…"

"Old?"

"He's only a few years younger than me." Steve could see her shift in her seat out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I ask what you guys talked about when Cora and I left?"

"Gabe wanted me to know they looked for me. Stark spent years searching the ocean." He cleared his throat.

"They didn't give up on you." He jerked a nod. Emily smiled softly. "That's got to be reassuring." Steve merely shrugged and looked over his shoulder as he changed lanes. Knowing that he needed a minute to collect himself, Em turned her attention back to the radio. "Oh! It's Del Amitri! I love this song." She turned up the radio and sang along to 'Roll To Me' under her breath.

"It's not Bing Crosby," Steve said when the song ended.

"Never said it was," Emily smirked. "But then again, not a lot of artists today are up to that level." They were quiet for the next twenty or so miles until Steve spoke.

"Are we seeing Dugan tonight?"

"Tomorrow. If we'd stuck to the original travel plan, we wouldn't even be here until later tonight." She paused and looked over at him. "Are you ready to see him?" He nodded and reached over to take her hand.

"So what are we going to do tonight?"

OOO

While Steve parked the car, Emily checked them into the hotel room. Sitwell had booked them separate rooms, but Em changed it to double Queen suite. Even though Steve's nightmare been disturbing, she hated the thought of him going through it alone. If there were some way to comfort him, than she would do it.

"Look," Em said as she walked to back to the car, where Steve was removing their bags. "They've got an Air Museum that's 'one of the country's top private World War II aircraft collections'." She handed him the small pamphlet so he could see some of the planes they had.

"That sounds interesting. Just one problem," he pointed to a line on the cover. "It closed two hours ago."

"No it's not," Emily corrected, "we just lost three hours."

"I don't think an hour is enough time to get there and look around."

"Ok, that was my attempt. You choose what we do for the evening." Steve looked around the parking lot.

"I'll think of something," he assured her. "Let's go up to the room."

OOO

"Much better choice," Emily sighed as she stripped off her socks and shoes before rolling up her pant legs. Steve smiled and followed her actions.

"I thought so." He popped the trunk so she could hide her purse and threw the towel they'd taken from the hotel in as well.

"Race you," challenged Em. Steve nodded. "On the count of three. One…two…"

"Hey!" Steve laughed as she started running. When his feet hit the sand, he nearly stumbled, but quickly covered the distance between them. "Cheater," he mocked, turning to run backwards after he'd passed her.

"Only fair when racing you," she laughed. Steve stopped at the shoreline, but Em ran straight into the water, stopping only when the water reached her calves. The wind whipped through her hair as she threw her arms out wide and turned to face him, a wide smile on her lips. "This is the first time I've been in the Pacific Ocean."

"Me too," Steve said, walking into the water up to his ankles. He watched as she brushed the hair from her face and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. There was a mischievous glint in her eye when she opened them. She walked towards him, stopping a few feet away, and kicked water at him. "Watch it!" he laughed, throwing up his arms to block the water from his face.

"That's what you get for mocking my taste in music." She kicked again, just as a wave washed over her legs, making for a bigger splash.

"Yeah?" Steve bent down and splashed her, "that's what you get for cheating." Emily sputtered as dark water spots appeared on her jeans.

"This means war, Rogers," she said, narrowing her eyes. Em kicked, giving Steve a face full of salt water. He wiped at his face, shaking droplets of water out of his hair, and grinned. Emily splashed him again when she saw the look in his eyes. "No." Em tried to move towards the shore but Steve moved to block her. "Don't you dare."

Steve rushed forward and caught Emily around the waist as she tried to dodge around him. Using her momentum, he swung her back around and, with a quick move he'd seen in a movie, lifted her off of her feet and put his other arm under her knees. Emily shrieked with laughter and wrapped her arms around his neck. He took a few steps into deeper water. "You said this was war, Dr. Harthorn."

"No, I take it back," she laughed. He braced his legs and quickly dropped his arms. Emily gasped as she fell a few inches before he caught her again. "If you drop me…" she warned. Laughing, he let go of her legs and held her upright. While the water was only up to his calves, Emily was up to her knees.

"You started it." He reached over and brushed a strand of hair that was caught in the corner of her mouth. Emily blushed and took a step back from him, and Steve quickly dropped his hand as well, going bright red.

"_Zut alors_!" Emily groaned when a wave crashed against her legs, forcing her forward into Steve's arms. She looked at her legs and laughed, her pants now wet up to her thighs. "Nothing better than wet jeans."

"Let's get out of the water," he suggested. They trudged back towards the shore and decided to walk towards one of the rocks jutting out of the water. Em pulled her hair back into a ponytail and spent the walk looking for shells. "What's 'zut alors' mean?"

"Uh…darn?" Emily said, a question in her tone. Steve nodded and held his hand out for the shell she showed him. He rubbed his finger along the smooth surface and half smiled.

"You always speak in French when you're angry."

"I know," she chuckled, "I picked that up from my mom. Dad didn't speak a word of French when they were married, so she used to get away with calling him names and he didn't know it."

"Oh. My parents used to fight in Gaelic."

"Do you speak it?"

"No, I never learned. Wish I did."

"There's always classes you could take. I could find you one when we get back to New York," Em offered.

"No thanks. I've got enough to catch up on without additional lessons. My teacher is a really taskmaster," he teased. Emily rolled her eyes and bumped his shoulder.

"Look!" She pointed towards a small playground next to a camping spot. Em grabbed his hand and dragged him towards it.

"That's for kids, Emily."

"I'm believe that everyone needs at least one day a month to be a kid," she said, adopting her lecturing voice. "It keeps you young at heart. And you and I are long overdue for one, sir." When the sand turned to grass, Em let go of his hand and ran towards the monkey bars. "I used to be pretty good at these when I was younger."

"I wasn't," Steve said, suppressing a grin. Em stepped onto the jungle gym and lifted herself onto the top of the bars. With a few seconds, she was hanging upside down by her knees. He stood on his toes and lifted himself the few centimeters off of the ground before doing a chin up.

"No exercising!" Emily swung herself so she could slap his arm. "This is about having fun."

"This is fun," he smiled while doing another. Emily looked around and grinned. She let her arms fall and, in a quick motion, jerked herself up so she could grasp the next bar. After checking her grasp, Em relaxed her knees and let her legs swing free before dropping the short distance to the ground. With a backwards glance at Steve, she went over to the merry-go-round and sat on one of the metal bars. He followed her over.

"_This_ is fun, Captain Rogers," Emily stated. Steve pushed it gently, and Emily gripped the bar tightly as she revolved. "You can do better than that," she challenged. He smiled and pushed harder causing Em to laugh. When it slowed, she sat in the center and braced herself. "Ok, show me what you've got." Laughing, Steve did as she said and spun her around and around before jumping on and holding tight. Emily felt herself loosing her grip on the bar and wrapped her arms around it, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

Steve put is foot on the ground to slow their movement when he hear Emily gasping for breath. When they finally came to a stop, he looked over and saw her lying down, her body shaking with laughter. "Oh god," she gasped, "the whole world is spinning." Laughing, he stood up and tried to stabilize himself before helping her off. Emily took his offered hand and staggered like a drunk when she set foot on the ground. When she lurched to the side, Steve quickly grabbed her.

"Sorry," he grinned, "shouldn't have gone so fast."

"That was so much fun," she chuckled. Em sat down and flung her arms out; it felt like she was still spinning 'round and 'round. Steve sat next to her and looked out at the ocean.

OOO

Long after Steve had gone to bed, Emily stayed awake. The notebook she'd purchased at the drug store was open on the bed beside her, filled with notes from the night's research. Numerous tabs were open on the Internet browser, each a different search for 'Thor', 'Dr. Bruce Banner', 'Culver University destruction', 'Harlem destruction', and 'Emil Blonsky'.

Emily stood up and stretched before walking over to the trashcan and depositing the empty plate in it. She put the pizza they'd ordered into the mini fridge and washed her hands, just as Steve started to toss and turn. Quickly, she dried her hands and walked over to his bed. "Steve, it's okay," Em said softly. Steve turned and groaned into his pillow.

After grabbing the blanket from the closet, Emily set the alarm on her phone for three o'clock and laid down next to Steve. "I'm right here," she said, stroking his cheek. "I'm here." When he settled down, Emily's eyes drifted closed.

At three o'clock, Emily blindly reached for her for the phone and shut off the alarm. She groaned and rolled onto her back. Her eyes shot open when she felt a weight on her waist. Steve's arm was wrapped around her, holding her to his side. His chin rested on her shoulder. "Mon Dieu," Emily said softly. With some maneuvering, she managed to get out of Steve's tight grip and threw the blanket into the corner of the room. The laptop and notebook were placed on the floor before she threw back the covers of her bed and climbed in, trying not to think about how much more comfortable she'd been a few minutes before.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thank you, as always to blown-transistor. And I don't know what to say about this chapter other than blame wine and Titanic.

As for the opening...this is a rated M story, and there's going to be more scenes along those line. Poor Steve, right? But I read a really interesting article about REM sleep. Those suffering with PTSD often don't fall into that state and cannot process what happened. But one side effect of REM sleep is...well...see above.

I have never been to Tillamook, Oregon so I apologize if anyone is from there and I'm getting the place completely wrong. The same goes for any depiction of driving a manual transmission. The story that Emily told? Yeah, my mom's high school boyfriend did that to her.

After last week's monster chapter and all the drama, I thought they could use some fluffy goodness. As always thanks for reading and let me know what you think!


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Emily groaned into the pillow when her phone started ringing. She blindly slapped for the phone and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Are you still sleeping? It's nearly eleven!" The familiar voice of Em's sister-in-law floated across the line.

"I've been awake," she lied, rolling onto her back and forcing her eyes open. The lack of sleep, coupled with the three hour time difference, was making it very hard to wake up.

"Mmhmm," Lauren chuckled.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I'm going in late. Brandon, Jack, and Mackenzie had dentist appointments."

"Fun." Emily glanced towards Steve's bed and saw that it was empty.

"Of course. Nothing quite like having three angry kids in the car." Emily hummed her agreement when she noticed the sheet of paper on the pillow. Lauren continued to talk, but Em didn't pay attention. Instead, she picked up the paper and held it at arms length, her eyes not quite focused enough to attempt reading without her glasses.

_Emily,_

_Good morning. I've gone for a run. I'll be back soon._

_Steve_

There was a small surge of handwriting envy when Em studied his loopy, flowing cursive. "Em," Lauren said loudly.

"Sorry, what?"

"You definitely just woke up. Now, I have a question to ask you."

"Oh god," Em groaned while putting the phone on speaker. That wheedling tone never meant anything good.

"It's not bad," Lauren said. Em got out of bed and stretched, depositing Steve's note on the bedside table. "I just wanted to know if you might possibly be interested in going to dinner with-"

"No."

"Emily," Lauren pleaded.

"No setting me up."

"Honey, it's been a long time! You need to start living again, and part of that is dating."

"Lauren, I appreciate your concern," Emily sighed while grabbing her toothbrush and paste, "but I'm honestly fine."

"Did you or did you not tell me that you-" there was a soft clicking sound, and Steve pushed the door opened, "are lonely and missed coming home to someone when we spoke last week?"

"Hey, Lauren, I've gotta-" Steve paused in the doorway, unsure if he should give Em some privacy.

"Women have needs, Emily!" Em scrambled to turn off the speakerphone, her cheeks bright red. "It's been a whi-"

"I'm fine, Lauren! Tell Tuck and the kids I said hello. Love you, bye!" She hung up the phone and flung it onto the bed. "Hi," Em said a bit too brightly, "how was your run?"

"Good," Steve said. It was hard to tell if he was blushing, because he was already a bit red in the face; his white shirt clung to him and there was a light layer of sweat on his face and arms. "Sorry, I didn't mean to walk in on your conversation."

"It's okay, just Lauren being Lauren." Her face grew hotter. "I'm going to …" she held up her toothbrush and darted past him into the bathroom.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to think about what he'd just heard. He'd woken up before Emily and felt restless, not having completed his usual morning routine for the entirety of the trip. Rather than waking Emily, Steve had quietly gone about preparing for a run before writing the note. He didn't want her to worry while he was gone.

"How far did you go?" Emily asked when she came out of the bathroom.

"About fifteen miles, I think."

"Fif-fifteen? Why not just go for the whole marathon?"

"Didn't want to be gone that long," he grinned. "I was only out there for two hours."

"Only," she rolled her eyes and crouched by her suitcase. A white, v-necked button up and a tan pencil skirt with a false button panel and a ribbon at the waist. She passed a critical eye over the blouse before standing. "Did you need anything pressed?"

"I'll do it," Steve said.

"Jump in the shower, I'll do it. This needs to be done anyways." After a moment's hesitation, Steve withdrew a pair of dark grey pants and white button up from his duffle.

"Thank you." Emily nodded and retrieved the iron and board. Steve studied the bruise on her cheek and noticed the slight yellowing around the edges. There was a chirping noise from her bed, and Emily grabbed the phone.

"You've got to be kidding me," she groaned.

"Everything alright?"

"Peachy," she smirked. "Just need to call Lauren back." Steve nodded and, once he'd gathered the rest of his things, slipped past Emily and into the bathroom. As he shut the door, he heard her say, "Please tell me you did not just send him my number."

Steve frowned, his hand frozen on the door handle. It wasn't his business, he told himself. With pure strength of will, he removed his hand and started to undress, hoping that the shower would help drive the thoughts out of his head. It didn't work.

Lauren shouldn't have given this stranger Emily's information if she hadn't wanted her to. Having often been in a similar situation with Bucky setting him up, Steve knew how uncomfortable it could be. It was protectiveness, he told himself, that was making him feel this sudden surge of…what? Steve wasn't quite sure. He knew that he shouldn't be this concerned about her going on a date; Emily was beautiful and intelligent, it should be expected that she would have suitors. And if she was lonely, like Lauren had said, than he wanted her to be happy.

He was rinsing off when there was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and before he could answer, it opened a crack. "I'm still working on your shirt," Emily said as put the hanger on the inside doorknob. "Thought you might want these first."

"Thanks," Steve said. When the door shut, he could hear her continue her conversation.

"Lauren, please, please, please call him and tell him that I'm not interested." Emily cradled her phone between her shoulder and ear while working on a particularly difficult crease on Steve's shirt.

"Honey, it's just dinner, not an arranged marriage. Plus, you need some excitement in your life."

"I've got plenty of excitement," she replied, looking up as Steve exited the bathroom. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when she saw his towel tussled hair. He had tucked his undershirt into his pants, and was barefoot. Em pointed to the shirt and held up one finger.

"Oh? Are you seeing someone?"

"No, I'm not seeing anyone. I'm just busy with…research and prepping for my classes."

"Excitement, Emily. Fun. You need some of it. I'm pulling up to the store now, but I'll call you later."

"You'll tell him?"

"Love you!" Huffing, Em tossed the phone back onto the bed and set the iron down.

"Sorry about that," she said, handing over the warm shirt. Steve shook his head and slipped the shirt on.

"It fine. I can take care of your shirt if you'd like to get ready." Emily shook her head.

"I've got it. But I could use some coffee," she hinted. Steve grinned.

"I'll get it." By the time he'd slipped on his shoes and walked down to the lobby, Emily had finished touching up her clothes and had gotten into the shower. When she came out of the bathroom in only a bathrobe, Steve burnt his tongue on his coffee.

"Thanks," Em said, taking a sip of hers.

OOO

"I think it's that one," Emily said as Steve slowly drove along the road. Trees blocked the house from view, but she'd spied the number on the mailbox.

"You sure?" Steve asked. She turned and smirked.

"I wouldn't have said 'think' if I was sure."

"This can't be it." They'd stopped in front of a large white two-storied house with a covered porch. Three windows jutted out from the second floor, and there was an uncovered deck on the left side of the house next to the chimney. A long line of cars were parked between them and the house.

"It's the address I've got," Emily confirmed, glancing at the paper in her lap. "Might as well go and check." Steve looked over at her, and she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. "Ready?"

"I guess."

"Remember, he's nearly a hundred," she reminded him. "I don't know how he's going to be." Steve swallowed hard, trying to picture the energetic Tim 'Dum Dum' Dugan laid low by old age. Emily reached over and put a hand on his cheek. "It's going to be okay." He leaned into her hand and nodded before opening his car door. She followed his lead before Steve could open the door for her and adjusted her clothes, making sure to stand on her toes so her nude heels wouldn't sink into the gravel. When Steve offered her his arm, she gladly took it for both of their sakes.

"Here we go," he said softly when they'd reached the porch. Em squeezed his arm as he lifted his fist to knock. Wthin a few seconds, it was thrown open and both looked down to see a small boy standing there. He smiled up at them, his two front teeth missing, before turning and running back into the house.

"Justin!" a teenage girl admonished the boy before turning to face them. "Oh! You must be Mr. Rogers and Ms. Harthorn! Come on in."

"Thanks," Emily said, glancing at Steve.

"We're all in the back," the girl said, leading them through the living room. "Grandpa's really excited to see you." A few people looked at them as they followed her, and they both smiled shyly. After she'd slid the back door open, the girl turned, smiled, and disappeared into the milling group.

"Oh my god," Emily gasped. At least thirty people were in the back yard, standing around picnic tables and chatting with one another. Steve dropped his arm and grabbed Emily's hand, holding it tightly. "This is…unexpected."

"ROGERS!"

A man who looked to be no older than sixty was walking towards them, his arms thrown wide. He had an impressive silver mustache, and silver hair poked out from underneath the bowler hat he wore. Laugh lines dominated his face, and his blue eyes twinkled with laughter.

Emily had to gently pry her hand from Steve's as her fingers started to tingle. Her head was spinning. In quick success, he looked down at their hands, at her, and then at his friend. "D-Dugan?"

"You haven't changed at all," Tim 'Dum Dum' Dugan laughed, clapping Steve on the shoulders. "Fury told me, but I said I wouldn't believe it until I saw it. And Emily!" Em's eyes widened as he pulled her close and kissed her cheek, his stubble scratching her face. "You've grown up well."

"Ex-excuse me?"

"Come on," Dugan said, "meet my family." Steve grabbed a stunned Emily's hand and pulled her along as Dugan wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him down the steps. "Pearl!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming, Tim, hold your horses," an older woman laughed from the picnic table. She was shooing several children away from an assortment of desserts. "Not until later, kids." When she looked up and saw them standing before her, Pearl Dugan clapped a hand to her mouth. "Gracious, you really _haven't _aged, have you?"

"Ma'am," Steve ducked his head and reached out to shake her hand.

"Please, it's Pearl. Welcome to our home. Tim's done nothing but talk about you ever since Nick called. And you must be Emily! It's a pleasure to meet you. I hear congratulations are in order."

"I'm sorry?" Emily furrowed her eyebrows.

"Your doctorate! Your parents must be so proud," Pearl grinned. "None of ours went that far, but we've got hope for the younger ones."

"Hoping," Dugan grinned. "Come on, dig in before everything gets cold. Want a beer?"

"We've got soda and wine in the house if you'd like something else," Pearl added.

"I'll have some wine, if you don't mind," Emily said. Even though it was only eleven in the morning, it seemed like it was going to be a long day.

"I'll take that beer." Dugan lead Steve away as Pearl came around the table and placed a hand on Emily's arm.

"It's a bit of a shock, I know," she said gently, leading Emily towards the house. "The aging."

"I-he's-"

"One hundred in September," Pearl nodded. "And fit as a fiddle." The woman shooed her family out of the kitchen and pushed Em into a chair. A glass of red was pressed into her hand.

"How?"

"I'm not all too sure," Pearl said, leaning against the counter, sipping her glass of water. "Tim tried to explain it to me one time, but it's over my head. All I know is that he gets a shot once a year. It's not quite as successful as Captain Rogers', but I get to keep him for a while longer." She smiled over her glass.

Emily took a deep drink of the wine and took a breath. Her brain was buzzing, trying to piece the information together. Was Dugan using the Infinity Formula that Steve had heard about? She needed more time to think. "You've a lovely home," she said, knowing what the question would prompt.

"Would you like a tour?"

Outside, Steve took a pull of the beer and looked around at Dugan's family. He glanced towards the house, wondering when Emily would reappear. "Crazy, isn't it?" Tim asked.

"Hmm?"

"Standing here, having a beer, after what we went through over there." Steve nodded.

"How are you standing here, Dum Dum?" Dugan barked a laugh at his old nickname.

"Fury didn't tell you?"

"He told me you retired a few years ago. And that you were watching over Emily's family." The other man nodded and took a swig of beer.

"I've watched that girl," he motioned to the deck above the house where Emily and Pearl were standing, "since before she was born. Shocked the hell out of me when I went to check on them and found out Caroline was pregnant. Thought I'd only have to deal with Tucker. And he's a lot to worry about."

"Oh?"

"The boy – well, I guess man, now that he's nearly forty – was really interested in science growing up. With that family," Dugan shook his head, "that's not a good thing. Thank god he got distracted."

"You're avoiding the question," Steve said, and the man laughed.

"I outrank you now, Rogers, I'll answer anyways. You hear about Sternberg's Formula?"

"A bit."

"It works real well. As long as I get a shot a year, I'm good. Lets me stick around to see my great-grandchildren grow up." Steve looked at the group of children wresting in the grass, then back at Dugan and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Life shaped up for you after the war, didn't it?"

"It surely did," Dugan chuckled before sipping his beer.

OOO

Emily sat at the picnic table and picked at the potato salad on her plate. The Dugan family was extremely welcoming, and made sure that she wanted for nothing. Pearl had made sure that her wine glass was never empty, and Em was feeling pleasantly buzzed. That didn't stop her from feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

For some reason, she had a nagging feeling that she'd seen Tim Dugan before.

He'd come to chat with her, asked about her family and it seemed like he knew more than he was letting on. It seemed like he knew that she was uneasy around him and was trying to put her at ease.

Steve, however, seemed comfortable for the first time. Dugan had taken him around and introduced him to the family. It seemed that a few of them were veterans, and all of the adults were aware of their (grand) father's military history and work with S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Are you doing alright?" Steve asked, coming to stand behind Emily. When she tilted her head up to see him, he couldn't help but notice the slight glassiness of her eyes.

"Regretting my shoe choice," she said, leaning back against him. Steve felt himself flush slightly but put his hand on her shoulder. "I used to rock at the hula hoop." He followed her gaze to where Dugan's grandchildren were spinning plastic hoops around themselves.

"Give it another try," he suggested. Emily laughed and took another sip of her wine before standing up and handing him the glass. Steve held her steady as she removed her shoes, and chuckled when she thrust them into his chest.

"_Je crois que je vais._"

"Which means?"

"I think that I will." They walked towards the group and Emily asked one of the girls for a hoop, which was quickly handed over. Emily waved off suggestions that she was 'too old' to do it. "Oh year? Shall we race?" The girls accepted her challenge. She spread her feet slightly and spun the hoop. Grinning, Steve watched as he rocked her hips back and forth, arms held out and laughing. After a minute, it slipped to her legs, but she kept it spinning as one by one the other girls' hoops dropped. When it fell to her ankles, Em hiked up her skirt slightly and leapt over the hoop. Another minute later, she threw up her arms.

"Still Queen of the Hula Hoop! Good job, girls," Em gave them all high fives before linking arms with Steve and heading back to the table.

"Heads up!" one of the teen boys yelled, running backwards. Steve nudged Emily out of the way as the boy hurtled towards them and held him upright when he crashed into him. "Dude, sorry!"

"It's fine," Steve said. He looked down at his shirt and pulled it away to examine the growing red wine stain. "I think this shirt might be done for."

"Come on," Emily said, "we can get that out." She grabbed her shoes from where he'd dropped them, took his arm and lead him towards the house, where Pearl was standing on the deck.

"Oh dear, what happened?" Pearl asked.

"Do you have any liquid soap and hydrogen peroxide?" She waved them into the house and gathered the things Emily had asked for, as well as a washcloth.

"You can use the guest bathroom," Pearl offered, leading them upstairs. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"Take off your shirt," Emily ordered, turning on the cold tap. Steve undid the buttons and handed it over, and she ran the stained area under the cold water, glancing at him in the mirror. "That one too."

Steve glanced down at his undershirt and frowned. "It's fine. I don't care if this one is stained."

"Off, Rogers." Steve blushed and played with the hem of his shirt before taking it off. "Here, hold this while I…uh…" Emily felt her face grow hot as she forced her eyes off of his chest and to his eyes. "I'll take that," she handed him the damp shirt and took the dry one. When she mixed the peroxide and dish soap, Steve stepped closer to her.

"How did you know to do this?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Emily's eyes darted up to meet his in the mirror and she smiled.

"I drink a lot of wine." It was hard not to admire him; even as he tried to cover himself, he only emphasized his arms. "We'll have to wash this when we get back to the hotel. I think I saw a laundry room." Steve was about to ask what he was going to wear back when there was a knock at the door. "Just a second!" Emily said, shaking her hands and motioning for Steve to open the door. He dodged behind it while pulling it open for her.

"This is the only thing I could find that would fit him," Pearl smiled, handing over a zipped up hoodie. "Did you need any help?"

"I think we've got it," Emily smiled and took the bundle from her. "Thanks." Pearl nodded and retreated up the hall. She nudged the door shut with her foot and shook her head. "You realize you've got nothing to be embarrassed about, right?" Steve took the sweatshirt and tugged it on, zipping it up all the way. "You're, like, Adonis." Groaning internally, Emily bit her tongue and closed her eyes. "Ignore me. Wine, it goes to my head."

Steve blushed bright red. He'd never felt quite comfortable with this body. For most of his life, he'd had to struggle for everything, sometimes fighting for his very breath in the throes of an asthma attack. This body, in his mind, was property of the United States Army, given to him to carry out missions. Steve Rogers was still the scrawny kid who caught every illness going around the neighborhood.

"Where'd you go?" Steve was snapped back to reality when Emily put a hand on his cheek.

"Just thinking." Emily smiled and shook her head while removing her hand. The corner of Steve's mouth twitched and he glanced at his watch. "Is it really six thirty?" She nodded and continued to work on his shirts for the next fifteen minutes before she declared that was all she could do. "Do you think we could bow out and not offend anyone?"

"I think that's a possibility."

It took another fifteen minutes for them to say their goodbyes, and Steve promised that he would be back tomorrow to return the sweatshirt. Pearl had wrapped his shirts in a plastic bag, which sat on Emily's lap on the drive back. In the quiet car, Emily let her mind drift.

OOO

_The perfect sandcastle. Five year old Emily squeezed her juice box onto the sand and scooped it, trying to mold it into anything other than the shapeless heap it was. "Em!" Sixteen year old Tucker yelled, running over to her, "Emily, come on."_

"_Tucker," she protested as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, "stop!" _

"_Come on, we're going home." Her brother pulled her along the sidewalk, ignoring whining. When they reached the edge of the park, he stopped and crouched down to look her in the eyes. "You see that guy over there?" _

_Emily looked to where he was pointing and saw a red headed man with a funny hat sitting on a bench. "Yeah."_

"_Promise me that if you see him again, you'll run."_

"_Why?" _

"_Cause he's a bad guy. Got it, Em?" Willing to do anything to please her brother, Emily nodded._

"_Okay, Tuck, I promise."_

OOO

"HOLY SHIT!" Emily yelled. Steve jumped and jerked his hand to the left, causing the car to swerve. He quickly corrected and pulled into the hotel parking lot.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Dugan! He was there!"

"What?" Emily struggled with the seat belt and, once free, flung the door open.

"Oh god," she groaned. Dugan. She'd seen him again during a baseball game when she was nine. And after, at the age of twelve, watching _The Labyrinth_, her young mind had conjured him up for a recurring nightmare where she was chased on the stairs.

"Emily," Steve said, darting after her. When he caught up to her, he could see that she was hyperventilating and crying. She bent over and put her hands on her knees, trying to stave off the lightheadedness. "Emily," he knelt down in front of her and tried to get her attention, but she wouldn't open her eyes.

"Du-Du-gan," she huffed.

"I need you to stand up straight, alright?" She nodded and did as he said, throwing out a hand to balance herself. "I'm right here," he said, grabbing her by the waist and holding her up. "Look at me, Emily." When she didn't he forced her chin up and her eyes flickered open. "I need you to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth."

He did just that, moving his hand from her chin to grab one of hers. He put it on over his heart, just like his mother used to do to him. "Breathe, in…and out. In-Hey!" Steve caught Emily as her knees gave out. "I've got you." He lifted her into his arms and carried her to their room, where it had taken some prodding for her to open the door for them.

Steve sat on his bed and continued to coach her to breathe, moving the hair from her face and wiping at her tears as he did so. "He was there," she sobbed. "_Oh mon dieu, il __é__tait l__à__ quand j'__é__tais petite. Il me-_"

"English," he said gently, even though he had a good idea what she was talking about.

"Tucker warned me to run. How long was he watching me?" Steve knew that answering would only send her into another panic attack, so he shook his head.

"He would _never_ have hurt you."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," she said, "how long were they watching?" Her mind was racing, trying to figure out if there had been any other suspicious things in her childhood. Steve tightened his grip on her when her breathing hitched. "What else did they do? Oh god."

"Relax," he ordered her, tilting her chin again so he could meet her eyes. "You were never in any danger."

"Did you know?" she demanded, pushing his hands away and trying to get out of his embrace.

Honesty, his parents had taught him, should always be strived for. But in this case, Steve knew that if he told the truth, Emily would be hurt. "No," he lied. "But I know Dugan and I know he would never have let them do anything to you. And you know Carter-"

"Carter!" Emily began mumbling under her breath in French.

"Emily," he caught her hands and held her in place. "There is nothing you can do about it now. There's no use working yourself up over something you can't change."

OOO

Steve pulled back the sheets of Emily's bed and arranged the pillows how she'd had them the night before. Satisfied, he turned to his bed and smiled; once Emily had worn herself out pacing the room and muttering to herself, she'd collapsed onto his bed. He had held her while she cried, worried about how much S.H.I.E.L.D. had interfered with her life. She'd mentioned something about law school over and over again.

Just as he was about to lift her from his bed, her phone started ringing. Quickly, he grabbed it and tried to stop it before it woke her up. One of the side buttons he hit stopped it from making noise, but 'Unknown Caller' was on the screen. Steve remembered her conversation that morning about being set up, and thought for a minute. Maybe this was one problem he could take care of for her. "Hello?"

"Hi." He was slightly taken aback by a woman's voice, rather than the man's he'd been expecting. "My name is Virginia Potts. I'm trying to get in touch with Dr. Harthorn."

"She's sleeping."

"Oh. Oh! Is this Captain Rogers?" Steve's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes."

"Phil, sorry, Agent Coulson mentioned that you were with Dr. Harthorn," the woman chuckled. Steve felt more at ease; if she knew Coulson, than they couldn't be in danger. "It's just, Dr. Harthorn has been trying to get in touch with Tony for a while and we just got into the country."

"Tony?"

"Sorry, Anthony Stark of Stark Industries."

"Howard's son?"

"Yes." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Now, Agent Coulson mentioned that you were trying to meet with old friends of yours and that you're in Oregon. Tony's not Howard, but would you be interested in meeting him?" Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Emily.

"I'll have to discuss it with Em-Dr. Harthorn."

"Of course! Just have her call me back at this number. We'll be back in California within the next week, so we can set something up for then."

"I'll have her call you in the morning," Steve assured her. "Have a good evening, Ms. Potts."

"And you as well, Captain Rogers." He looked at the phone in his hand and shook his head before setting it on the nightstand. Howard Stark's son? Steve thought as he picked Emily up, he'd definitely need her help with that one.

* * *

**Author's Note:** As always, thanks to blown-transistor for proofing this and being a sounding board.

Again, a longer chapter. In the comics, there was mention of Dugan receiving the Infinity Formula as an explanation for how he appeared young for so long. He's one of the more fun people in the movie, and I always thought he would have been a ton of fun to have a beer with.

Did anyone else like the little domestic scene at the beginning? And please don't kill me for the beginning. Blame Lauren (yes, a figment of my imagination, but still). What about Steve's conversation with Pepper?

The French in the chapter when Emily was freaking out translates as such: '_Oh mon dieu, il __é__tait l__à__ quand j'__é__tais petite' _means 'Oh my god, he was there when I was little'. Steve calming Emily down is possibly my favorite part of this chapter, just because it's usually the other way around. The bit about _The Labyrinth _actually comes from a nightmare I had when I was younger. If you haven't seen the movie, go to YouTube and looked up the 'The Labyrinth stair scene'. Ah David Bowie...

As per usual, thank you for reading this. You guys freaking rock my world =D 300 reviews?! This is officially my most successful story, and I'm so over the moon that you guys enjoy it.


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

_I wish I could do better by you, _  
_'cause that's what you deserve_  
_You sacrifice so much of your life_  
_In order for this to work._  
_..._  
_When you cry a piece of my heart dies_  
_Knowing that I may have been the cause_  
_If you were to leave_  
_Fulfill someone else's dreams_  
_I think I might totally be lost_  
_You don't ask for no diamond rings, no delicate string of pearls_  
_That's why I wrote this song to sing_  
_My beautiful girl_

_The Girl by City and Colour_

* * *

Steve leaned against the railing and hung his head. The crickets were chirping loudly, but that wasn't what was keeping him awake. It was Emily's question: how much had S.H.I.E.L.D. interfered in her life?

Director Fury's voice echoed in his ears. _"Rogers, she wouldn't be here in the first place if she knew how much S.H.I.E.L.D. had interfered with her life already."_ It had been weeks and weeks ago, when Emily had found out about Erskine. But was this the extent of it? Had they watched over her for her protection?

And why did he feel so responsible for all of this?

Because, Steve told himself, the serum worked on you. If it hadn't, HYDRA wouldn't have shot Erskine and his wife needn't have had to go into hiding. The Strategic Scientific Reserve and its successor S.H.I.E.L.D. would not have kept tabs on the family, and Emily would have been clear of all of this. She would have been 'just a girl from Massachusetts with a history degree', like she'd said before.

It was the other side of the coin. Had Erskine's formula not worked, who knew what would have happened. Steve would have stayed the skinny asthmatic in Brooklyn, doing anything to join the Army. He wouldn't have crash landed and woken up sixty-seven years in the future. He wouldn't have met Peggy. He wouldn't have met Emily. Or he could have died in the machine, becoming a notation of a failed experiment. Schmidt might have succeeded in his plan for global domination. Steve shook the horrible thought from his head. He couldn't bring himself to imagine that world.

Everything circled back to that first failure. He, Steve Rogers, had failed to save Dr. Erskine, the man who had given him everything.

Had he reacted quicker, Steve might have been able to pull him to safety. Instead, Erskine had been killed in the moment of his triumph.

Steve turned when he heard a whimper coming from the room. He'd propped open the door when he'd come outside and had left the lamp on low, wanting to make sure that if Emily woke up, he'd know. When he nudged it open a bit more, Steve saw that she was still asleep, lying on her side, and not moving. Thinking he might have just imagined it, he turned to resume his spot when she did it again. In an instant, Steve was crouched beside her bed. "Emily. It's just a bad dream." Her hand clenched on the pillow.

Sighing, Steve put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. It surprised him when Emily gasped and pushed out of his hold, her eyes flying open. A soft scream burst from her lips, and he jumped to his feet. "It's just me," he said, holding up his hands. He could still see the panic in her eyes as she pressed a shaking hand to her heaving chest.

"You don't wake someone having a nightmare up," she said after a moment. Steve frowned.

"Why not? Isn't it better if you don't have to finish the dream?" She shook her head and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. After a minute, Emily looked up at him.

"Have you slept yet?" She noted that he hadn't changed, and that his shoes were on.

"Can't sleep," he shrugged. Emily shook her head and got out of the bed; Steve took a step back. He watched as she untucked her shirt from her skirt.

"Try?" Sighing, Steve kicked off his shoes. Emily smiled and, once she'd changed into her nightclothes, sat on the corner of her bed. "Why do you look so upset?"

"It's nothing," he replied, folding his clothes and placing them on his bag. When he heard Emily yawn, he smiled. "Go back to sleep." She shook her head and tapped her temple.

"It'll start right back up again."

"What were you dreaming about? If you don't mind me asking?" Emily flushed and picked at the comforter.

"Just a movie I saw when I was a kid."

"Yes?" he prodded. Instead of answering, Emily walked to her computer and did something before beckoning him over. On the screen was a young woman and…a man standing upside down? Steve raised an eyebrow and watched as the odd looking man sang and the girl tried to reach the baby through a maze of stairs.

"That's what I dreamed about, those damn stairs. Except…someone…was chasing me. I watched him grab Tuck," Emily shook her head and shut the computer. "It's embarrassing."

"No it's not," Steve said. He reached up and tucked Emily's hair behind her ear.

"Alright, I shared, now it's your turn. What's keeping you up?" Steve sighed and looked down, avoiding her probing eyes. "Steven Grant Rogers," she said, bending so she could meet his eyes. "You better tell me or I'm going to assume the worst and be awake worrying about you all night."

Steve shifted uncomfortably, but couldn't help smiling when she used his full name. "I owe you an apology."

"For what?" Emily's voice was confused.

"If I had," he began pacing the room and rubbing the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to put it. "Erskine would still be alive if…if I had reacted quicker."

"What?"

"By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late. I-"

"Shut up." He froze mid-step, surprised by the anger in Emily's words. "That is not your fault."

"If the serum hadn't-"

"If it hadn't worked," she said, stalking towards him, "who knows what would have happened."

"He wouldn't have-"

"They probably would have killed him anyways." She flinched at the callousness of her statement, aware that she was talking about her own flesh and blood. "Erskine would have continued to work on the formula until it was perfected." Emily fought a scream of exasperation when Steve shook his head and stalked over to him.

"Your life would have been different if I would have gotten to him first."

Emily placed a hand in either side of his face and forced him to look at her. "You're right," she agreed. When his eyes closed tightly, she stood on her toes and kissed his forehead. Steve took a breath before placing his hands on hers, and trying to step away from her, but she didn't let him. "If you had gotten to my…my grandfather, than my Grand-mère wouldn't have had to move, and wouldn't have married Grand-père Charlie. My mother wouldn't have met my father in Maine." Steve started to stroke her right hand with his thumb. "And I wouldn't be here." He opened his eyes and saw her smirking. "Bet 'cha didn't think of that."

"No," he admitted. "I thought at most that I wouldn't have met you."

"Nope, completely gone. Now," Emily moved the hair from his face with her left hand before again raising herself and pressing a kiss on his cheek. "For the last time, you need to stop worrying about what you can't change."

For a moment, Emily thought that Steve was going to kiss her. His right arm wrapped around her waist and drew her closer. His blue eyes darkened and he lowered his head slightly. She could have sworn his eyes darted to her lips before meeting hers again.

But he blinked and seemed to shake himself. A shy smile appeared on his lips and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her into his chest, and forcing her to drop her hand. "I'll try to stop doing that." Emily repressed a sigh and threaded her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.

"Promise?"

"Promise." They were quiet for a moment, and Emily allowed her eyes to drift shut again. "You should get some sleep," Steve said. She nodded against his chest but didn't move. It made her smile when he chuckled, her head bouncing slightly against him. Neither moved for a long minute, until Emily's eyes opened when Steve kissed the top of her head. He was blushing when she looked up to meet his gaze. "No more nightmares tonight."

"Going to fend them off for me?" she asked.

"If I have to," he nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll hold you to that," Em teased. "You're going to sleep, right?"

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking for."

OOO

Steve slipped on his shirt and fixed the collar, his eyes darting towards Emily. She was still asleep, one arm thrown over her head and the other buried under a pillow. He glanced as his watch as he slipped it on his wrist and shook his head. It was nearly nine o'clock, and she showed no signs of waking up. Once he'd rolled up his sleeves, Steve walked over and sat on the side of her bed. "Emily." When she didn't respond, he chuckled and gently shook her shoulder.

"Hmm?" she groaned breathily.

"Are you going to wake up?" She didn't respond, but rolled away from him. "You're going to stay in bed all day?" She nodded into the pillow. "Really?"

"Really," Emily nodded. "I'm tired." When he didn't say anything, Emily sighed and opened her eyes, turning back to face him. "You don't have to wait for me. I know you've got things you have to do today." There was an unspoken acknowledgement that Emily did not want to go with him to see Dugan again.

"I won't be too long," he assured her.

"Take your time. Who knows when you'll be back out here again."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll call your cell if I need anything." Steve looked confused for an instant, before it turned to bashfulness. Emily put a hand over her eyes and smirked. "Do you even know where it is?"

"At the bottom of my bag."

"It's not doing you much good there, is it?" her hand swept the hair from her face before settling near his leg.

"I guess not. But you're the only person who would call me."

"Coulson might."

"He would call you if he couldn't reach me."

"Touché. But leave it out and I'll charge it for you."

"Okay."

"Now go away, I want to sleep."

"Yes, Ma'am," he laughed, giving her hand a squeeze. "Call Dugan and I'll be back right away." Emily gave him the thumbs up before turning back to the pillow. "Oh, and Ms. Potts called while you were sleeping."

"WHAT?!" Emily shot up and grabbed her phone, looking at the call history. "What'd she say?"

"She wants you to call her back," he shrugged. Once Steve had gotten his things, he drove not to Dugan's, but to a church that he'd found the previous morning. It had made him pause, wondering if he had any right to go in after the curses he'd hurled at God for playing so cruel a trick on him.

The priest with whom he had spoken to the day before raised a hand in greeting as Steve walked in. He nodded before dipping his forefingers into the stoup filled with holy water and making the sign of the cross, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

"Welcome back," the Priest said as he strode towards Steve.

"Thank you, Father Harris," Steve smiled.

"I wish some of our other parishioners were as dedicated as you."

"I've got a lot of time to make up for."

"Then don't let me keep you from it," Father Harris said. "But as I reminded you yesterday, there is no need to 'make up for lost time.' Remember Deuteronomy 31:6." Steve nodded and lowered his head as Father Harris quoted, "Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid; for the Lord your God, He _is_ the One who goes with you. He will never leave nor forsake you."

"I won't forget that again," Steve assured him.

"I can't imagine what you men go though over there, but God never forgets a soldier. He never gives us more than we can handle." Steve nodded. When he'd spoken to Father Harris the day before, he had guess that Steve was a veteran, and had counseled him on how best to reconnect with his faith. "Feel free to come speak to me if you feel the need."

"I will," Steve smiled and shook his hand before Father Harris went to address two older women who had just walked in. He strode up the center aisle and stopped at a pew close to the alter. After lowering his right knee to the floor and making the sign of the cross again, Steve took a seat and lowered his head to pray.

OOO

It was closer to noon when Emily left the hotel. She'd called Ms. Potts back and, after conferring with Agent Sitwell, worked out a tentative date for them to go to California. If not then, they would have to wait until she returned from her Denver conference in three week's time.

The bag containing Steve's forgotten wine-stained shirt swung in her hand as she walked through the town in search for a laundromat. The front desk manager had told her that there was one a mile or so up the road. So she had grabbed her things, as well as Steve's now charged phone, and trekked the short distance, hoping to salvage the shirt. Emily had paid a woman to use her bleach and, rather than staying in the noisy, hot building, had gone to a drug store to pick up a few things.

While hunting for a new pair of sunglasses, Emily smiled when her eyes landed on a pair of aviators. She picked them up and tried them on herself but frowned at her reflection. While they didn't work for her, Steve had been squinting while driving yesterday. What glasses would suit a Captain more than aviators?

Once she'd selected her glasses and grabbed a new bottle of concealer, Emily paid and walked back to the laundromat just in time for the shirt to finish the wash cycle. Satisfied that the stain was fully removed, she tossed it in the dryer and settled down in a chair to check her e-mail on her phone.

One of her friends had forwarded her a job posting at the university she was working at. _Think about it?_ Christine had written. _Miss you! _Emily scanned the posting and figured she qualified for it. But then again, she thought she'd been a good candidate at the universities she'd interviewed at before, and look where that had gotten her. Even the two that had assured her that there would be an offer had left her hanging.

Emily shook her head and typed out a quick reply that she was happy at NYU. Honestly, she wanted to submit her resume. And now, after finding out that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been watching her for most, if not all, of her life, Em wanted nothing more than to hand in her resignation and find some college to teach at. Where she wouldn't have to worry about keeping secrets from her family, and have a normal life where aliens and monsters were just fiction.

But that would mean leaving Steve and Carter. Emily knew that Fury would do everything in his considerable power to block her from seeing them again. And she wondered if they would do as he said.

OOO

Steve leaned forward and set his beer on the coffee table. He and Dugan had spent the day discussing the good 'ole days. He had been able to tell Steve about the rest of the team, how both Jim Morita and Jacques Dernier had been offered the Infinity Formula but had turned it down. Morita had wanted to a normal life and left the military after the war. Dugan had gone to his funeral the previous year. Dernier had returned to France and lived a quiet life in the country, where he'd died of old age nearly fifteen years ago.

"They had the right idea," Dugan nodded, raising his bottle to his lips. "Wish I would have gotten out of the espionage game long ago. Pearl begged me to do it, but I wanted just one more year."

"It's easy to get caught up," Steve agreed.

"You're telling me. You should have seen Pearl's face when they offered me the Directorship."

"And you turned it down?" the astonishment in Steve's voice was evident, and Dugan jerked a nod.

"I'm an old dog, Rogers. They needed someone younger, and Fury was a better candidate. Besides, I'm not one for politics."

"We're soldiers."

"That we are, Cap, that we are. Besides, I was about to hand in my resignation when Stoner's recruitment methods came into effect."

"What methods?"

"Eh," Dugan took another swig of beer. "Stoner wanted the best he could get from the military. Wanted to take advantage of a lot of loopholes and force soldier's hands. Fury told me he was going to put a stop to it, which is why I backed him."

"How was he going to force their hand?" Steve frowned.

"Not entirely sure. I only had Level 8 security clearance. But I knew I didn't want a part of it. I don't want to be involved with blackmailing people to join."

"Did Fury stop it?"

"As far as I know," Dugan shrugged, lifting his hat off his head and swiping a hand across his brow. "I try to stay out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s politics. Like I said, I want the quiet life. I don't want to be back in that game."

"Do you know what they've got planned for me?"

"Not a clue. We were looking for you," he assured Steve, "but we didn't know if we would find you. So we didn't include you in any plans."

"It probably doesn't include a quiet life," Steve raised an eyebrow and took another swig.

"No, it probably doesn't," Dugan agreed.

OOO

Emily tossed her bag on the bed and slid her new sunglasses to the top of her head. From the second bag, she took out Steve's folded shirts and brushed at a few wrinkles that had already begun to form. When Em put it on his bag, she was surprised to find her hand had brushed something hard just inside.

Normally, Emily didn't consider herself nosy, but Steve had left the bag unzipped just enough for her to see the black cover of the sketchbook she'd made him buy. It surprised her, because she hadn't seen him drawing at all. Curiosity piqued, slipped it out of the bag and was just about to flip the cover open when her cell phone rang. "Hello?" she answered. The book tumbled from her hand when the person spoke.

"How is Oregon?" Emily looked around the room, panicked, as Blonsky spoke again. "You didn't think I'd give up on Rogers that easily, did you?"

"Wh-what do you want?" she demanded.

"That should be obvious, Emily."

"Ross was told to back off," she forced her voice to be more firm, even as her hands shook as she drew the curtains over the windows.

"Ross isn't the only party interested in your boyfriend."

"Who?"

"Tut-tut, where would the fun be if I told you that?"

"Go to hell," she spat before hanging up. She half expected him to call back as she dialed Agent Coulson's number.

"Coulson."

"He knows where we are." There was silence on the other end.

"Come to New Mexico. We've got enough agents here to keep Blonsky at bay for now. I'll have Sitwell set up your flight."

"Thank you," Emily sank onto the bed and put her head in her hand. "I'll call Steve."

"Captain Rogers isn't with you?"

"He's with Dugan."

"I'll tell him. We could use him as back up, anyways."

"For what?"

"I'll see you soon, Dr. Harthorn. Don't worry, we'll take care of Blonsky."

* * *

**Author's Note**: I'm sorry this is delayed! I spent the weekend moving into a new apartment and didn't get a chance to work on this until last night after I passed out on the couch after work. Thanks for blown-transistor for looking this over and being a sounding board.

And we're back to angst. I pictured Steve going, "_Erskine's granddaughter, Erskine's granddaughter!__" _during their little moment in the beginning. Sorry for the teaser, but hey, I gotta get my kicks somehow. I in no way pretend to be knowledgeable about the rights and rituals of the Catholic Church, so I depended on Google and my 5 year-old memory for that part. A lot of stories I read seem to forget that Steve was religious. Kinda felt like at some point he needed to go to church.

Some notes on the Steve/Dugan conversation. Colonel Rick Stoner was the first Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. I couldn't find much information on him, so I made up some stuff to suit my story. Dugan actually was an Executive Director after Fury, but again, I'm messing with canon. This chapter involves a few throw backs to the beginning chapters, mostly Steve's conversations with Fury. Hopefully you guys enjoy that! I try to plant stuff _far_ in advance of actually using it.

Again, sorry for the delay. This chapter is shorter than the others partially because of that. Please let me know what you guys think!


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

_Sleep warm, sleep tight, when you turn off the light _  
_Sleep warm, sleep well, my love _  
_Rest your head on the pillow, what a lucky pillow _  
_Close to you, so close to you all night_

_Sleep Warm by Frank Sinatra_

* * *

Steve glanced at the dashboard clock, unable to see his own watch. It was nearly four in the morning, and the near silence in the S.H.I.E.L.D. sedan was making him tired. He glanced at the back seat and saw Emily had finally fallen asleep, awkwardly stretched out with the seat belt cutting across her stomach. She'd been anxious and unable to relax during their flights from Portland to Salt Lake City, had spent the layover pacing, before they'd boarded again to land in Albuquerque. It was only during that short stop that he'd been able to get her to eat before she worried herself sick, but even that was just a small biscuit and a cup of coffee (much to his chagrin; caffeine wasn't going to help her relax). Thankfully, when they'd landed at the small airport in Clovis, the driver had been waiting for them.

"We're nearly there," the agent assured Steve when he turned back to face the road.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"Puerto Antigua," the man stated. "We set up a bit of a base there after the Destroyer incident. Dr. Foster's been using it as a research facility since it's where Thor appeared. You heard about Thor, right?" Steve jerked a nod as they drew closer to what appeared to be a town. He could just see the outline of people standing on rooftops, watching as the car approached. The agent lowered his window and pressed the brakes before sticking his hand out and making a gesture and continuing to drive.

"There's no perimeter fence?" Steve asked.

"No. S.H.I.E.L.D. never really has assets here, except Dr. Foster, and she usually bounces between here and Mount Athena where she works with Dr. Selvig. But with her demonstration, we're building up the armed presence, just in case she manages to open the wormhole and bring something through."

"Wormhole?"

"I've got no idea. I'm just here provide backup," the man smirked, pulling the car to a stop outside of what looked like a large black bus. "We've got you two in here for tonight. I'll get the bags and you can get the doctor."

Steve nodded and unbuckled his seat belt before reaching into the backseat and touching Emily's arm. "Emily, we're here." She didn't respond. Shaking his head, Steve got out of the car and opened the door by her feet. The agent had already gone inside with Emily's bag, and was returning for his as Steve leaned across the seat and undid her seatbelt. Emily cracked her eyes open when he touched her again and frowned.

"Where are we?" her voice was thick with sleep, and Steve smiled.

"Puerto something. Come on, let's get you inside," he said quietly. When she slid across the seat, he stepped back to allow her to out. Instead she sat on the edge of the seat and stretched, looking around at the small gathering of RVs and what looked to be tour buses parked outside of an abandon town.

" 'time is it?" Steve smiled as she rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. They opened lazily when he picked her up, one arm around her back and the other under her knees.

"Nearly four," he replied. Emily wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Someone will be over to get you in the morning," the agent said, looking as though he was trying not to smile. He held the door open and closed it after Steve had walked in, careful to make sure Emily didn't hit her legs.

"Sounds ominous," Emily sighed. He chuckled and moved towards the bedroom at the back of the converted bus. After nudging the sliding door open a bit more, he set Emily down on the bed, where she promptly kicked off her shoes and moved to the middle of the mattress. Steve pressed a hand to his mouth as he yawned and shook his head.

"Goodnight." Emily opened her eyes and held out her hand for his. Smiling, he took it and squeezed it lightly. When she tugged, however, he frowned.

"Please," she said softly. He hesitated, just long enough for her to shake her head. "Never mind." Emily turned away from him and pressed her face into the pillow, trying to force Blonsky's image from her mind. He had invaded her dreams, melding with the picture of the monsters rampaging through Harlem she'd found online.

"Let's get under the covers, at least." Emily opened her eyes and saw that Steve had folded back the corner of the blankets and was removing his own shoes. She nodded and did just as he said, feeling a small thrill of victory as he slid between the sheets. Although he looked somewhat uncomfortable, Emily put her own selfish needs above his own (after all, she'd lost quite a bit of sleep while helping _him_ with his nightmares) and moved closer to him. Feeling somewhat embarrassed, Emily lifted his arm so that she could lie next to him. But this is what she needed to feel safe.

Steve raised an eyebrow but smiled as she pressed against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her; when she placed her left hand on his chest, he covered it with his right. It didn't take long for Emily to fall asleep again, a small smile on her lips, but Steve lay away for a while longer. He was sure that Emily could hear his racing heart, and he tried to keep his breathing steady so he wouldn't wake her. When her fingers tightened on his shirt, slipping between the gaps between the buttons, he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, Steve felt Emily slid her leg between his. Gulping, he forced himself to breathe as he pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

OOO

"You stupid woman!"

Both Emily and Steve sat up quickly as the door banged open and an irate Carter Falsworth bound up the few steps. The two glanced at one another, a slightly blush creeping over both of their faces as Carter locked eyes on them and strode over. Emily rubbed her forehead where Steve's stubble had scratched her and glared at Carter. Steve had scrambled out of the bed and was adjusting his shirt, looking like he'd been caught doing something wrong. "What is your problem?" she demanded, her voice gruff. Carter ignored Steve and grabbed Emily's arm, yanking her closer to the edge of the bed. "Hey!"

"Blonsky?! Of all people to punch, you hit _him_?!" he demanded, forcing her chin up so that he could examine her cheek. Her makeup had rubbed off enough so that he could see the bruise, which had thankfully begun to yellow around the edges, making it look at least a little better.

Emily slapped his hand away and jerked her arm out of his grasp. "I'm fine."

"No thanks to him," Carter leveled his glare on Steve. "You were supposed to look out for her."

"I know," Steve nodded solemnly. "I should have-"

"Excuse me," Emily interrupted, looking between the two men on either side of her, "I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself."

"That," Carter pointed at the bruise, "says otherwise." She glowered before flinging herself back into the bed and pulling the covers over her head.

"It is too damn early to deal with this. Go away."

"I would have been here earlier if I'd been told you arrived. As your case agent-"

"I don't have a fucking case agent," she snapped, moving towards the warm spot Steve had abandoned.

"Oh how little you know, Emily Rose." She seethed quietly for a moment, trying to calm herself down. It failed miserably.

"_Tu me dis__!_" she snapped, sitting up. "How long were you following me?" She was on her knees, leveling her gaze on him. "How long was Dugan following me?" Emily shoved Carter and sprang out of the bed. "Were there others?" Carter stood his ground as she shoved again. "Was it my entire family or just me?" Emily began to pound on his chest. "Did you plant the comic so I would-_LET ME GO_!" she snapped as Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her away from Carter.

"I think you should go," Steve said over his shoulder as he struggled to hold Emily.

"I was going to law school!" Emily shrieked, turning in Steve's arms and trying to push him away.

"Come find me when you're not crazy."

"_Je vais te montrer fou!_" Steve shook his head, trying not to grin at the heated woman as Carter slammed the door shut. She was quiet for a moment before pushing against him again, "_L__â__chez-moi_3_._"

"Good morning," he smirked.

"_Ce n'est pas un bon matin_," she shook her head.

"Would you please speak English?"

"It's not a good morning when you wake up to that," Emily motioned to the door and Steve nodded.

"He's just worried about you," he reasoned.

"I don't need people to worry about me."

"They do because they care." Emily gazed up at him for a moment before pushing against him again; Steve let her go and she stepped around him for her bag. He watched her pull out her toothbrush and paste before opening one of the small doors off to the side.

"Be right out," she said before ducking into the small bathroom. He could hear the tap going and sat down on the corner of the bed. Had he said something?

Emily splashed cold water on her face and put her wrists under the faucet, trying to cool her body down. Her blood was boiling from Carter's rude wake up call, but even before that she'd been feeling a bit warm. Parts of her wanted to blame it on the desert heat and completely disregard the dream she'd been having. It was her subconscious telling her that she was comfortable, she told her self while brushing her teeth. It was a sign that she was lonely, and that it had been a while since she'd had sex.

It did not mean that she wanted Steve like that.

Even as she looked at her reflection, Emily knew that she was lying to herself. Any woman would have been slightly insane not to appreciate Steve's physical appearance. Lust, she decided. Last night's dream was simply a manifestation of her own (subconscious) lustful thoughts for him. Just leave it at that, Emily, she ordered herself.

But it wasn't the whole story. She'd lusted after Dave, wanted nothing more than to feel _something_ after being numb for so long. There was nothing to drive them towards a relationship; even if Emily had been ready to date again, they'd fought about everything: politics, movies, religion, music, food, who got what side of the bed, taking off the engagement ring and locket, spending time together… Honestly, it had been a miracle that their liaison had gone undiscovered for so long.

With Steve…they hadn't talked about a lot of those things but Emily found herself looking forward to seeing him. She liked seeing the expression on his face when something surprised him, and being the one to encourage him in his moments of self-doubt. Emily liked that _she_ was the one who could calm him down when his dreams frightened him. She that Steve never called her 'Em' or 'Emmie' or any other nickname, just Emily. And, although it sometimes rubbed her the wrong way, she liked that he wanted to take care of her, whether it was opening a door and buying dinner, or making sure she wasn't taken in the line of fire.

Emily paused in her brushing and groaned. Oh god, when had this happened? "Are you alright?" Steve asked, tapping on the door.

"Fine," she said rinsing her mouth, her voice a bit too high. No, no, no! Emily set her toothbrush on the counter and leaned against the wall. She was absolutely not supposed to develop feelings for Captain Steven Grant Rogers! There was too much that came along with it; they were both too damaged to be together. He needed some nice girl who _didn't_ have the baggage she did. Emily most certainly did not need to be involved with another man who could run off and be killed in the line of duty, leaving her shattered _again_.

Stupid dream, she scowled. Stupid fucking dream. Why, damn it, had she slept with him last night? Why had she depended on him to keep her safe from her nightmares?

Steve looked at the bathroom door, debating whether or not to open it and make sure that Emily was alright. She didn't sound it. He had just made the decision to knock again when there was a rapping on the door. Frowning, Steve glanced at the bathroom door before opening it. If it was Carter again…

"Good morning," the redheaded woman said, smiling up at Steve.

"Morning," Steve replied. "Can I help you with something, Ma'am?"

"I hope I'm not coming too early, but Phil told me that you got here this morning, and I just wanted to come by and say hello. I'm Virginia Potts."

"Oh," Steve said. "Um, would you like to come in?" She nodded and scaled the few steps, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. As she was looking around in vague interest, Emily pushed the door open.

"If that's Carter you can-" Emily stopped short when she saw the woman standing beside Steve. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and her bangs arranged perfectly on her forehead. Despite the heat, she was dressed in a black pencil skirt and white blouse. The only concession she'd apparently made to the desert was wearing flats rather than heels. It made Emily's wrinkled t-shirt and slept in jeans look particularly bad. "Oh. Hi."

"You must be Dr. Harthorn," Pepper smiled, reaching out to shake Emily's hand. Em nodded, looking from her to Steve and back. "Virginia Potts, but you can just call me Pepper."

"Emily," she replied.

"Steve Rogers," Steve said promptly. Pepper nodded and shook his hand as well.

"I don't want to sound rude," Emily said, "but I didn't realize that you would be here."

"We weren't originally supposed to be," Pepper waved away the comment, "but Tony found out about Dr. Foster's demonstration and S.H.I.E.L.D. is making sure that if it does work, they'll be ready for whatever happens."

"Right," Emily nodded, "the whole alien thing." Pepper chuckled.

"Don't let Dr. Foster hear you say that. She'll say that Thor is an Asgardian, not an alien."

"Noted." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Steve studying her but refused to meet his gaze. Noticing the tension, Pepper looked between them.

"Well, I just wanted to come and say hello. And if you'd like, I might be able to drag Tony away from the lab and we can have lunch. I know he's looking forward to meeting you both."

"Sounds great," Emily smiled. They said their goodbyes, and Steve held the door open for Pepper before turning his attention to the historian.

"What's wrong?" he asked. She shook her head and lowered her suitcase to the floor, hunting for a professional outfit that wouldn't be stifling in the heat. When he crouched beside her, Emily still didn't look at him. "Hey."

"It's nothing Steve, I'm just tired and stressed and want to some down time." Irrationally, Emily thought that he would see epiphany she'd had if she met his gaze. That was something she really didn't want to deal with at this moment. She needed time to sit and think, force herself to be sensible; if this job was to be a success, she needed to draw and respect the line between professionalism and friendship. Now was the time to reestablish that boundary. "Did you want to use the bathroom before I shower?"

Steve studied Emily for a minute, trying to figure out what had changed. Even though he tried to get her to look at him, she wouldn't. Repressing a sigh, he nodded.

OOO

Emily smoothed down her skirt and tugged at the white button down. She realized she was fidgeting, trying to make sure that her hand didn't bump Steve's as they followed Pepper into a massive white tent. They could hear arguing inside.

"-Astrophysics, Mr. Stark, not electrical engineering!" a woman's exasperated voice floated out. Pepper shook her head and rushed forward.

"Well, it's a machine," the man's cocky voice replied, "Which means I might be able to fix what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong!"

"Jane, maybe it wouldn't hurt to have another pair of eyes look over it," a third voice chimed in.

"Thank you!"

"Tony," Pepper said, pushing aside the tent flaps and ushering Emily and Steve inside. "Don't be rude."

Emily's eyes were drawn to the huge machine dominating the area. She craned her neck to see the full extent of the monstrous thing before looking at the four people arranged around it.

* * *

**Author's Note**: As always, thanks to blown-transistor for proofing this.

The French translates to: "_Tu me dis" _You're telling me!; "_J__e vais te montrer fou!_" I'll show you crazy!; "_L__â__chez-moi" _Let go of me. Again, sorry if the translation isn't correct.

Not really a lot in this note. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. We're now getting into the fun parts! This one was delayed because I was worried about getting everyone in character, so let me know if you think they aren't!

Thank you guys for reading and please let me know what you think!


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

_Oh, I´ve loved you from the start  
In every single way  
And more each passing day  
You are brighter than the stars  
Believe me when I say  
It's not about your scars  
It's all about your heart_

_All About Your Heart by Mindy Gledhill_

* * *

Steve eyed the four people, two men and two women, who stood before them. One made him to pause, and he nearly said 'Howard' before he caught himself. No, this isn't his friend, although he looked remarkably like him. He raised an eyebrow when he saw a circular blue light emanating from his shirt, but remembered Emily saying something about it being a part of him.

"I'm just pointing out some design flaws," the man says, giving Pepper a cocky smirk. Ah, yes, that's a familiar look, Steve said to himself. He reached for Emily's hand, but when his fingers brushed hers, she shifted away from him and scratched her arm.

"Erik," the older of the two women groaned, turning towards older blonde man. "Get him out of here."

"Jane," the younger woman said, "it can't hurt. I mean, you want Thor back and he might be able to help."

"Darcy is right. A third set of eyes could pick up something we missed," the older man said, putting his hands on her shoulders. The woman gave a defeated sigh before turning to face Howard's son.

"You clear _everything_ with me, Stark. _Everything_."

"He will," Pepper assured her. "Won't you, Tony?" He waved a hand dismissively, which caused the redhead to huff and turn to Emily, who smiled slightly. "May I introduce Dr. Harthorn and Captain Rogers? Emily, Steve, that is Tony Stark," Stark didn't bother looking up from the machine, "Dr. Erik Selvig, Dr. Jane Foster, and Darcy Lewis."

It took a minute to shake everyone's hand, but again, Stark did not join. "Mr. Stark," Steve said, walking over to him, his hand outstretched.

"Captain," Stark replied, leaning closer to look at a jumble of wires. After a moment, Steve dropped his hand.

"Emily tells me that you've inherited your father's talent for weapons development." The man huffed and wiggled a wire, which caused Dr. Foster to stride over.

"Stark," she warned.

"Just testing it," he countered. "The circuit board might be overloaded."

"I've had it check a million times."

"But not by me."

"_You_ aren't even supposed to be here."

"Jane, chill," Miss Lewis sighed. "He's Tony freaking Stark. He won't break anything he can't fix."

"Thank you," Stark grinned at the younger girl. "See, Darcy trusts me."

"That's because Darcy doesn't know better," the blonde woman smirked. Steve glanced over his shoulder at Emily, who shrugged.

Emily was thoroughly unimpressed by Tony Stark. Had, in fact, thought him rather pompous and arrogant after he declared that he's "successfully privatized world peace" with his Iron Man suit. Factor in numerous tabloid stories she'd seen while checking out at the grocery store, and it didn't paint a nice picture. Plus, there was that whole fiasco at the Stark Expo the previous year.

She ignored the mini argument that broke out between Stark, Dr. Foster, and Darcy Lewis and pressed her hand to her head. All she wanted at this moment was some time alone, a nice glass of iced tea, and silence. Instead, she had egos and science, oppressive heat, and stupid butterflies in her stomach with Steve looked at her again. God, why did he have such expressive baby blues? She knew that she couldn't dodge him forever, but why did he have to make it so hard to ignore those damn butterflies?

Beside her, Pepper quickly answered her ringing phone. "Hello? Yes, Mr. Bryan," she smiled before holding up a finger and walking out of the tent. "How is the inspection going? Are we up to code?"

"You alright?" Steve asked. Emily pushed her glasses further up her nose and nodded before wiping at a bead of sweat.

"Not a huge fan of the heat," she replied. The corner of Steve's mouth quirked, and he lowered his head to whisper in her ear.

"He's got an ego just like his father." Emily bit the inside corner of her mouth to stop from smiling, those damn insects in her stomach beating their wings faster. She forced herself to step back and away, happy that her glasses had tinted and at least shielded her eyes a bit from his probing glance.

"I'm sure it's genetic," she replied. When he furrowed his eyebrows, she chuckled. "It's a joke. Humor isn't genetic."

"Are we boring you?" Stark asked. Emily pressed her eyes shut and _nearly_ leaned against Steve's chest, but instead looked around him to see the brunette billionaire studying them.

"Of course not," she said, trying to placate the egomaniac. "It's just that not everyone follows the science behind what you're doing."

"Wait, you're Dr. Harthorn?" She nodded, and then narrowed her eyes when he looked her up and down. "I thought you'd be older, with the frizzy hair and thick glasses. You look more like a sexy librarian." When Steve frowned and opened his mouth to say something, she put a hand on his arm.

"Really? You look more like a grease monkey than a CEO," Emily retorted, taking in the man's dark pants and white tank top. She could see the blue light through his shirt and repressed a shudder; the thought of having something like that inside of her freaked her out. The corner of Stark's mouth twitched before he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Eye Patch got you to watch out for your grandfather's science experiment?"

"That's incredibly rude," Emily snarled, feeling Steve tense under her hand. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

"Must have forgotten them."

"Maybe they didn't penetrate that thick skull of yours."

"I like you, Kid," Stark chuckled after a minute. "Now, could you just take off your glasses, shake out your hair, and say, 'Mr. Stark, do you know the penalty-'"

"Tony, that was the building inspector," Pepper said as she stepped back into the tent. "They found a few things not up to code in Stark Tower."

"What?" Tony demanded, his attention thankfully diverted from Emily, who had turned bright red at his comment. "I paid for the best contractors…" his voice trailed off as he and Pepper left.

"Thank god," Dr. Foster sighed. "He's been driving me crazy all day."

"I feel like he does that to everyone," Emily replied.

"He shouldn't speak to you like that," Steve said suddenly, causing both women to look at him.

"It's kind of part of life," Emily smirked.

"Unfortunately," Dr. Foster agreed. "Men tend to do that."

"He's right," Dr. Selvig nodded. "Mr. Stark may be an asset to the project, but he shouldn't be harassing you."

"Uh," Darcy said, "he hits on everything with boobs." Steve flushed at the brash woman's statement, and glanced down at Emily who was nodding. "So, is being buff and blonde a pre-req to being a superhero?"

"I'm not a superhero, Ma'am," Steve said, flushing a deeper shade of red.

"You sure? Cause Agent Coulson fanboyed pretty hard when he said you were coming." The tips of Steve's ears went bright red and he looked at Emily who grinned.

"I'm sure."

"You were pretty heroic in the war," Emily countered, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And you _are_ a super soldier. So wouldn't that make you a super hero?" She bit her lip when he gave her a fleeting smile.

"I'm just a soldier," he said, turning his attention back to Darcy. "I was doing my job." The intern looked like she was going to say something, and Emily decided to help Steve out.

"So what does this thing do?" she asked, motioning to the machine. Darcy muttered, 'Here we go' and rolled her eyes as Drs Selvig and Foster looked at one another.

"We're attempting to open an Einstein-Rosen Bridge," Dr. Foster said.

"A wormhole," Darcy added, seeing the lost expression on Emily's face.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Hearing the worry in her voice, Steve put his hand on her lower back.

"Only if we bring something through," Dr. Foster assured her. "And we're trying to aim it for Asgard."

"Which is…" The woman beckoned them over to a whiteboard dominated by a blown up copy of a drawing.

"This one," Dr. Selvig pointed to one of the circles. "In Norse mythology, it is home to the Gods."

"Thor's one of them," Darcy added, and eyed Steve again. "He's blonde and buff, too." He blushed.

"And how do you know if you're, erm, aiming," Emily hesitated, not entirely sure if that was the correct way of phrasing her question, "for Asgard?"

"We're going off of this," Dr. Foster pointed to a black piece of paper with white dots. "We managed to capture this star alignment the first time the Bridge was opened. We've compared it to known star quadrants for other galaxies. I think we've found the right now."

"Those are other galaxies?" Steve asked, his eyes wide as he pointed to a picture at the lower edge of the board. When Dr. Selvig nodded, he crouched down to study it. "They're beautiful."

"Mmhmm," Darcy agreed, but her eyes weren't on the picture. Emily raised an eyebrow and shook her head slightly. It was hard to follow along as Foster and Selvig went over the finer aspects of the experiment, but she tried.

"What happens if you do manage to open a Bridge, but it's not to Asgard?" The looks exchanged between the two spoke volumes.

"That's why S.H.I.E.L.D. brought so many people in," Selvig said after a moment. Emily glanced down at Steve, who stood up quickly.

"In case something you're not prepared for comes through," Steve clarified.

"Yes." He clenched his jaw and looked at Emily. Her head was cocked to the side as she looked at another one of the picture stuck to the board, seemingly oblivious to what was just said.

"Now, does this thing shoot up a laser or something? Or is it more 'Beam me up, Scotty'?" Darcy laughed at Emily's lame attempt at a joke but the two astrophysicists rolled their eyes.

"No laser," Dr. Foster said, striding over to the machine and to a small keyboard jutting out from the side. "Just concentrated energy." She hit a few keys, making a screen in front of her light up. The machine let out a high-pitched electrical whine as though it were charging.

Emily's feet left the ground as Steve yanked her towards him so that her back pressed against his chest, and turned them away from the machine. His arm wrapped around her waist and the other around her shoulders, pinning her against him. It was somewhat hard to breathe, but she could feel his hot breath on her neck and how tense he was.

"Dude!"

"Turn it off!" she heard Selvig yell, and then the frantic clicking of the keyboard. When the machine made another whining noise, Emily thought Steve might fracture her bones with how tightly he was gripping her.

"Wha…" Dr. Foster sputtered, "I'm sorry!"

"We're fine," Emily gasped. "Aren't we, Steve?" When he didn't reply, she reached up and put her hand over his. "Could you just give us a second?"

"Of course," Selvig said. Emily waited until she heard the tent flag swing against the fabric again before she spoke.

"Steve, you're hurting me." His grip loosened somewhat. "Thank you." She started to stroke his hand. "It's not real, Steve. Wherever you are right now, it's not real." He tensed again and let out a grunt as thought he'd been struck with something. "It's not real, Honey. We're in New Mexico. It's 2012. There's no threat here. We're safe."

Outside of the tent, Emily could hear Stark asking why he wasn't allowed to go in and work. She hoped that they would be able to keep him out; the last thing she wanted to deal with at this moment was Tony Stark. Steve in the middle of a flashback was bad enough, especially given that she was still trying to find out the trigger. The only thing that had changed was the machine turning on.

"Damn it," she muttered. It had to be the noise it made. Garrett had problems with noises too. Once, he'd thrown her to the ground and himself on top of her when a car had backfired, and then run off yelling about not leaving a man behind. Thankfully, one of his friends had been with them and had managed to talk him down. "We're safe, Steve. _Nous sommes ici. C'est moi, mon coeur. _It's alright." Slowly, he relaxed enough for Emily to turn in his arms and face him. His eyes were closed tightly, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his face.

"_C'est moi, mon tr__é__sor." _Emily rubbed his back and pressed her cheek to his chest. She could hear his heart racing. "_Tu es bien_."

"Emily," he said finally.

"_Oui_. It's just me." His hand moved from her waist and settled on her neck. She tensed, not sure of what he was doing and somewhat afraid that he would do something to hurt her.

Instead, he swept his thumb along her jaw, traced her chin. "It's not real," Steve said. When he moved his hand up to her cheek, Emily's breath hitched. "It's 2012." He ran his thumb across her cheekbones and down the slope of her nose. "We're in New Mexico." Those damn butterflies were back with a vengeance when he gently brushed her lower lip. "We're safe."

"We're safe," she echoed, looking up at him. His eyes finally opened, boring into hers.

"No weapons?"

"No weapons." He looked at his shoulder.

"It felt real."

"It wasn't. It happened a long, long time ago." She fought the urge to reach up and smooth 'v' that appeared between his eyebrows.

"IT YOU TWO ARE DONE IN THERE!" Stark's voice boomed.

"Anthony Edward Stark, leave them alone!" Pepper's shill voice answered.

"I really don't like him," Emily sighed.

"Me either," Steve replied. "I don't like that he-"

"AHEM."

"Dude! Knock it off!"

"Miss Lewis, if you would please step out of the way." Steve's hands quickly dropped and they both took a step away, faces burning, as Carter entered the tent with Sharon right behind him.

"Everything alright?" Sharon asked, her eyes darting from Emily to Steve. Emily nodded and tugged her shirt back into place.

"Fine," she replied. "Just needed a minute to collect ourselves."

"Huh," Carter smirked; Emily shot him a glare.

"Yes, _Agent Falsworth_?" He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head.

"Well, if everything is okay, perhaps you could let Stark in?" Sharon said, ignoring the tension between her cousin and the historian. "He's rather loud." Steve ran a hand over his face and nodded. She stepped outside and, a moment later, Stark strutted in, followed by Pepper, Darcy, Selvig, and a rather embarrassed looking Dr. Foster.

"Steve, would you mind walking me back to the room?" Emily asked, not pulling away from the glaring contest she was currently engaged in. "I'm feeling kind of light headed." Carter looked like he wanted to say something, but Sharon elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted and looked away to glare at his cousin.

"Sure," Steve said quickly. Emily smirked, glad that she'd won the contest, and turned towards him.

"Thanks. It was nice meeting you all," she added. Pepper rummaged in her bag for a moment and pulled out a bottle of water.

"For the dizziness," the redhead said, before her eyes shot towards Steve. They lingered for a moment before she looked at Emily again. "Let me know if I can do anything else. I've got some experience with it." The tenderness in her voice made Em smile.

"Thanks. It's not the first time I've dealt it, though." Pepper nodded and Emily linked her arm through Steve's leaning on him as though she really was feeling somewhat dizzy.

OOO

"I'm sorry." Emily sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at Steve.

"For what?" she asked.

"I shouldn't have grabbed you." He was looking at the floor, as if waiting to be screamed at.

"You thought we were in danger. So, I guess I should be thanking you."

"What for?" Steve sounded confused, his eyes flicking up to meet hers for an instant before focusing on the wall behind her.

"For caring enough to grab me." The words seemed to shock him.

"Emily, of course I…you mean a-" he sputtered, his hand shooting to the back of his neck. "I don't…" Steve gave a defeated sigh, angry that he wasn't able to string together a simple sentence.

"Can I ask what you thought it was you were protecting me from?" she asked tentatively. Head hung, Steve walked over and sat next to her on the bed, reaching for one of her hands. _'Boundaries! Professional boundaries!'_ her brain screamed at her when he threaded his fingers through hers, even as it marveled at how his hand engulfed hers.

"Hydra had these weapons," he said, looking at their hands. "They looked like guns, but the ammo was different. If you got hit you just…disappeared. Their guns would make a noise and I guess it sounded a lot like Dr. Foster's machine." Steve twisted their hands and looked at the diamonds on her right ring finger. After a minute, he withdrew his hand.

"You know what you need to do, right?"

"What?" he asked, looking up to meet her gaze.

"You need to call Dr. Thompson." Steve shook his head.

"He already knows what's wrong with me."

"Steve," she sighed, "that wasn't a nightmare. You have to handle them differently. And Thompson needs to know."

"Fine," he finally said.

"One more thing-"

"You're not asking enough already?" he asked. Although he meant it to be funny, Emily could hear the slight exasperation in his voice.

"I can call in a favor," she teased. "Maybe this one will make up for me going to see the plane stuff with you?" The corner of Steve's mouth quirked as his hand drifted to his pocket to touch the compass.

"I guess."

"Can you do something relaxing for about half an hour? Maybe draw?"

"That's a strange favor to ask for."

"Humor me," she smiled. Once he'd nodded, Emily stood up and walked to the small air conditioning unit hanging from the ceiling. "Now, let me see if I can get this thing to work."

Steve chuckled and retrieved his sketchbook and a pencil from his bag. While he settled back on the bed, Emily climbed onto the counter and stood up, bending so her head wouldn't hit the ceiling. She waved off his offer to do it for her. So instead, he flipped to a blank page and started to draw, glancing up every once in a while to make sure that Emily didn't fall.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Oh god, so freaking tired writing this. Ended up working on it until 4 in the morning. Be happy people! I've gotta get up for work in a few hours! This is love guys, it really is. SO a major thanks to blown-transistor for looking over this and hopefully catching all of my screw ups. And for all the help keeping everyone in character. I really stressed about that. This chapter has so many people and personalities to manage. I'm really sorry if someone seemed out of character. I tried my best.

Again, sorry if the Tony/Steve meeting didn't go how you thought. But don't worry, there's more! (Oh god, I'm thinking in memes right now... NEED SLEEP!) Personally, I loved writing Darcy. I'm beginning to ship Steve/Darcy which made it kinda hard to write this chapter, lol. Oh! And Tony's hitting on Emily is a blatant rip off of a Bones episode. It was just too good to pass up using.

As for the science, DON'T ASK. Honestly. I took a semester of astronomy in high school, and another in undergrad, and a semester of planetary geology. I'm a social science person for a reason, lol. In the course of writing this, certain scenes of Thor were re-watched, and I still didn't get the science. Guess that's why Jane and Erik have PhDs in Astrophysics and I have a Masters in International Affairs. Rambling, but anyways...

The flashback scene came to me when I was watching Iron Man the other day. Anyone else notice that Tony's pulse bolts make exactly the same sound as the Hydra weapons? So that's where that came from. The French in the chapter translates to "We're here. It's me, my heart/my treasure", and "You're okay."

As always, thank you so much for reading this. Sorry if it seemed long winded, but I've got some plot stuff to cover before we get to the feels later. Please let me know what you think!


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Are you going to sleep at all?" Steve asked, pushing the divider open. He could see Emily chewing on her nail in the light of her computer screen, but she didn't answer. "Emily." Those wires were dangling from her ears again. Sighing, he walked towards the small kitchen table, finally getting her attention.

"Did you say something?" Em asked, looking up at him and pulling the wire from her right ear.

"Are you planning on sleeping tonight?"

"It's only one," she replied, her bespeckled eyes shooting to the top corner of her computer.

"In the morning."

"And? I've got at least another three hours before I'm calling it quits." The phone beside her coffee cup lit up, buzzing against the table. She grabbed it and smiled, reading the text.

"Who's calling at this time of night?" he asked, frowning.

"It's a text message. And I'm missing the cram session in the office. Everyone's pulling an all nighter." The longing in her voice made him shake his head. Those had been some pretty memorable nights; the graduate students would order food at three in the morning, run up and down the halls to get their blood pumping, and scream along to music when it got entirely too quiet on the floor. The drinking that followed such sessions usually resulted in class cancellation the next day, or simply playing a movie for the students. If they had been planning it for a while, a test was scheduled for the day so they could recuperate in a silent classroom.

"Emily, you need to sleep."

"I will, I will," she waved off his concern. "I just want to get to a good stopping point."

Steve sighed. Ever since Emily had realized that they were now in the month of June, she'd been distracted. He'd caught her muttering to herself quite a few times, and her phone was ringing more than usual. When he asked what was going on, she berated herself for waiting so long to begin working on her presentation.

OOO

"_What presentation?" Steve asked, his eyes landing on the phone that lit up in her hand. _

"_For the Denver conference," Emily replied, sending the call to voicemail. She frowned, not recognizing the number; it was a New York 917 area code. _

"_We're going to Denver?" she looked up quickly, eyebrows raised._

"_Um, I am. I've got a paper to present." _

"_Oh," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. "What's it about?" _

"_You." Her cheeks were bright red. "And," she said quickly, "other propaganda during World War II." Steve nodded._

"_How long will you be there?"_

"_A week. There are a ton of sessions and roundtables I want to go to, and some of my friends are flying in to go, too, so we're going to hang out and catch up." _

"_Sounds like you're going to have fun," Steve said, trying not to show his feelings about her being gone for an entire week. _

"_I am," Emily grinned. "I miss being around all of that." The phone chirped, indicating a voicemail was left._

OOO

"You've got plenty of time to do the work tomorrow," Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, but tomorrow is another day closer to the conference," Emily countered. "And I need this to be perfect." The tone of her voice made him frown.

"Why?"

"Because these conferences are recruiting centers," she sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing her eyes. "And if I can impress, than I might get a job offer."

"You've got a job."

"For about ten more months. After that, I'm jobless. And I've got some pretty big loans to pay off." Steve felt something in his stomach clench. Ten months. Ten months and then Emily would be gone.

"I don't know if ten months is enough time for me to get caught up," he said, putting his hands on the table and leaning heavily on it.

"We'll hit the big stuff," she shrugged, putting her glasses back on. "Hey," she smiled, seeing the anxious expression on his face. "We've got plenty of time." The corner of his mouth twitched. Time had never been his friend.

"You've got plenty of time to do this," he nodded towards the computer, "tomorrow. Come to bed." Steve felt his face burn as the words left his mouth, and in the artificial light he was sure he saw Emily's do the same.

"Give me an hour."

"Ten minutes." She narrowed her eyes.

"Forty-five."

"Twenty."

"Half an hour, at bare minimum."

"Thirty minutes, Harthorn," he agreed, "and then bed."

"Yes, Sir," Emily smirked. "And that starts now." He smiled and stood up, slowly making his way back to the back room. The soft, rapid clicking sound followed him as he settled back on the bed. Every once in a while he would hear that loud buzzing again, and Emily chuckle.

Twenty-nine minutes later (and yes, he was counting), the clicking stopped and he could hear the slight 'pop' of the computer closing. He listened to her set the coffee cup in the sink, and then open the small refrigerator. Smiling, he laid back and closed his eyes. A minute later, the divider slid back and Emily walked in, a water bottle in hand. "You're such a faker," she teased. Without opening his eyes, Steve smiled.

Emily walked the right side of the bed, pulled out the ponytail holder and slid the elastic headband off, setting them next to the water bottle on the floor. She took a moment to fluff out her hair, loving that it was now touching her shoulders. The black cardigan soon joined the rest of the items on the floor. When she looked at Steve again, she could see him peeking at her under his eyelashes. "Happy?" Em asked, pulling back the covers.

"Yes," he replied, opening his eyes and smiling over at her. He noticed that she was wearing the shirt that she'd worn when they'd first gone to dinner at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. White letters spelling out 'UMASS' were printed across her chest, and it looked like she'd cut the top of the shirt off.

"I'm not even tired," she lied.

"Humor me." Steve saw her roll her eyes as she lay down. "Goodnight."

"Night." Emily rolled onto her side, facing the wall. It was quiet. Unnervingly quiet, Steve thought. Growing up in the city had made him accustom to noise. Here it was just…

"Emily," he sighed when the muffled buzzing sound broke the silence.

"Sorry! I told Brock I was going to bed." Her side of the room lit up and he could hear her typing out a response. "It's going on silent now, I promise." Steve shook his head.

Despite her assurance that she wasn't tired, Emily fell asleep quickly while Steve lay awake. Restless, he got up and went to retrieve a bottle of water. He could see a blinking red light on Emily's phone and sighed. The damn thing annoyed him. Emily had been on it, chatting, laughing, and typing so much in the last two days. It wasn't that he wanted her attention all to himself, but he did want to at least talk to her. He could see how excited she was to get away from S.H.I.E.L.D. for a while, and he couldn't blame her. With everything that had happened recently, Steve wanted to get away too. But he wanted to make sure that they were safe before doing that.

Blonsky was being too quiet. He had told Emily that he was coming for Steve. Why hadn't he made a move? Steve shook his head and set the bottle on the counter and went back to bed just as the phone lit up again. The name 'Dave' flashed across the screen. Huffing, he got back into bed, staring at the ceiling. Emily shifted beside him, rolling onto her back and throwing her right arm over her head, and Steve smiled.

While he still worried about compromising Emily's reputation by sharing a bed with her, she had no such qualms. He'd voiced this the second night they'd spent in the 'RV', as she called it, but Emily had shook her head and said that it really didn't matter because men and women shared beds all the time in this day and age. And, despite his protesting, Steve liked that Emily was comfortable enough to do so, especially given how she had been pulling away from him. And he knew that she was, even though she denied it and claimed that it was just this project.

It was little things that had tipped him off. When he would reach for her hand, she would pull away. She would look over his shoulder when speaking to him about something, or shift her gaze when he tried to meet hers. Yesterday, when he'd moved a strand of hair from her face, she'd jerked away as if he'd struck her. And while he hadn't realized that they walked closer together before, he did notice that she'd broaden the gap between them. So he looked forward to these unguarded hours they spent together, where she didn't shy away from him.

Because, without realizing it, Steve knew that he'd fallen for Dr. Emily Rose Harthorn.

It hadn't been the immediate attraction that he'd experienced with Peggy, one that mixed with a strong dose of respect and fear. In fact, Steve thought with a smirk, he'd been rather resentful of Emily the first time he'd seen her. Seeing her in that uniform after being tricked by Thompson's room…But he'd seen that she was just as lost as he was. It had been the first glimpse behind her mask that he'd caught. Because, Steve had realized, she was wearing a mask. To others she might appear to be a self-possessed, headstrong woman (and he couldn't deny that was true), but Steve knew that Emily was broken, just as much as he was. She tried to hide behind her concern for others, or throwing herself into work. When confronted, she had a tendency to run, rather than face it. But there undeniable moments when she let the façade drop and let he see how vulnerable she was.

It was her kindness that had drawn him in. And though he realized that some part of it was because of her job, Steve knew that it was actually Emily. She hadn't needed to _care_ about him. He was sure the job would have been done if she'd just given him book after book to read, but instead she'd taken the time to get to know him. Emily had made sure that he got help when his mind had begun to betray him. She'd gone to Thompson, and when he'd later struck out on his own, found a way to get him back. It was Emily who had comforted him when he'd been forced to confront his past.

Steve had fought against these feelings. Prayed to God that he would take them away. Because he knew he wasn't good enough for her. Emily may have repaired some of her cracks, but he hadn't. He wanted,_ needed_, to be the good man he'd promised her grandfather that he'd be. And he knew that he wasn't. A good man wouldn't put the woman he loved in danger, like he did by just existing. And if this trip had proven anything, it was that he did exactly that. Sanders had used her to get to him, had known that if Emily was threatened, Steve would go quietly. He saw red when he though of Blonsky touching her, and his blood boiled whenever he caught sight of the bruises he'd caused.

He'd protect her, Steve thought as he rolled closer to Emily. She would fight against it, scream that she was a grown woman who could take care of herself, but he would step in for her when she needed it. Because he'd seen the broken woman behind the mask, and he wanted nothing more than to make sure that she was never hurt again.

OOO

Emily pressed her eyes tightly together, trying to block out the loud 'plinking' noises. Another hour of sleep sounded amazing, even though she knew she needed to get up and start working, or at least turn the air conditioner up a bit more. But the prospect of leaving her comfortable bed was too much. Instead, she kicked the blanket down, frowning as it met some resistance. "Hot?" Steve asked, much closer than Emily had thought. She nodded and felt the blanket move. There was a cracking sound, followed by a rumble of thunder.

" 's raining." Emily mumbled.

"Has been for a few hours," Steve replied, lifting his hand to remove the hair from her face. Once it was tucked behind her ear, he turned his attention back to the sketchpad. He laughed when she muttered something unintelligible. "What?"

"Need to get up," she sighed, but made no effort to do so. "Work."

"It can wait." He smiled when she turned towards him, arms wrapped tightly around the pillow.

"Mmhmm." The next clap of thunder was so loud the RV shook and Emily's eyes lazily opened. Steve smiled down at her and slid his pencil behind his ear.

"Morning." Emily rubbed at her eyes, smearing the black eyeliner more than removing it.

"Uh huh," she nodded. When her eyes opened again, she smiled. Steve was sitting up, back pressed against the wall, with his right leg propped up to support his sketchbook. "What are you working on?"

Steve was glad he'd flipped the page when Emily had started stirring. Instead of his current project, he tilted the book to show her the rough sketch of the beach they'd visited in Oregon. Emily propped herself up on her elbow, her hand burying itself in her hair, and smiled. "That's really good."

"It's okay," he said modestly. Outside, the wind was screaming.

"It's better than okay." He flushed slightly. "Can I see what else you've done?"

"Uh, sure," he replied after a moment's hesitation. Steve flipped to the beginning of the book, trying to recall the pages he needed to flick past.

"Wow." Emily sat up and edged closer to Steve when she saw the detailed portrait of Howard Stark and Dr. Erskine talking. "It's just…wow. That looks just like the picture I have of him. And is that-"

"Howard," Steve nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Stark really does look like his dad."

"Yeah." He turned the page, making sure that he lifted two pages.

"Hang on, you skipped one," Emily pointed out, reaching up to flip the page back. "Oh." Steve sighed.

It had been one of his favorite mental pictures of Peggy, and he wasn't satisfied with his poor recreation. He couldn't get the subtle look of approval she'd given him when he'd pulled the peg out of the flagpole rather than climbing it. It was the first time she'd smiled at him.

They sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Emily cleared her throat. "What time is it?" Steve picked up his watch and glanced at it.

"Nearly ten."

"What?!" Emily screeched, rolling away from him and grabbing her phone. "I had my alarm set for seven!"

"You needed sleep." She whirled around, the damn phone in her hand again, and gave him an incredulous look.

"You turned off my alarm? Steve, I told Brock we would do a video chat! He was going to help me write my introduction."

"Can't you do it now?" he asked, feeling slightly abashed.

"He's probably passed out by now," she groaned, scrolling through the text messages and missed calls. Em frowned when she saw the three missed calls from Dave. Without another word, she hurried from the room and to the small table, where she booted up her laptop. "Shit. He's not online."

"Sorry," Steve said. Emily waved off his apology and pulled up her e-mail. "I didn't know you had something to do."

"What in the…" Em wasn't paying attention. She clicked on the e-mail Brock had sent her, titled 'GOT IT DONE WITHOUT YOUR CV'. Instead of the document she's been expecting, the attachment was a PowerPoint presentation. "Oh god." She put her head in her hands and started laughing. Confused, Steve walked over and leaned on the wall behind her as she pulled up the slideshow.

The first slide was simply her name and the title of the paper she was presenting. But when she moved to the next slide, Brock's southern drawl echoed through the small room. "Dr. Harthorn received her undergraduate degrees from UMass Amherst, where she majored in being a flirt and heart breaking." Emily's cheeks turned bright red as a Halloween picture flew onto the screen. A guy she'd been casually seeing her sophomore year had talked her into going to a frat party. As he'd been going as Hugh Hefner, Emily had gone to the costume store and gotten a Playboy Bunny outfit.

"While she'd originally planned on going to law school," Brock continued. The picture faded as the next slide appeared. "Dr. Harthorn stumbled upon a comic book of everyone's favorite…damn what's that stupid nickname you said he had…" There was a sound of shuffling papers. "OH! The Spangled Man with a Plan! And dear god, look at that shoulder to waist ratio." An old poster of Captain America spun onto the screen, and Emily shot a glance up at Steve, who was bright red. "Anyways, Dr. Harthorn gave up her dreams of being a high powered court room attorney and descended into the halls of academia."

A series of pictures flashed across the screen. Emily sitting at her desk, piles of paper on either side of her and a bottle of wine within reach. Attempting to skateboard down the hallway during an all-nighter. Threatening Brock with her high heel after he'd spilled coffee over the tests she'd printed out for her next class. Wearing the school colors during a football game. Standing on a stage and giving a lecture.

"After four and a half years, and a semester sabbatical, Emily Harthorn was awarded her doctorate," a shot of Emily being hooded by Dr. Collins, "and left her family to become a lecturer at NYU." There was a pause as the slide transitioned, "Come back home, Em, we miss you!" Emily felt tears spring to her eyes as the screen was filled with a picture of her friends. They were sitting in the department conference room with boxes of pizza and a cooler full of energy drinks on the table.

The screen flickered as the slide show ended, and Em pushed away the computer and put her head on the table. She heard Steve moving, and then his hand was on her back, rubbing small circles. "You okay?"

"Just a bit homesick." Her arms muffled her answer. "Brock wasn't kidding when he said that they're my family."

"He…seems like an interesting guy."

"He's got a major crush on you." Steve's hand stopped moving and Emily laughed.

"Uh. Thank you?"

"Don't worry," she said, lifting her head, "he'd devoted to his very hot boyfriend. I'm supposed to go to their commitment in a few months."

"You have to do a ceremony to be committed to one another?" Steve frowned, wondering how he might have missed this important societal change.

"No," Emily frowned, "they can't get married, so they're doing this."

"That's not right." Her eyebrows shot up and she turned to face him, ready to debate. "You should be able to marry whoever you want."

"Why, Steve Rogers," she chuckled, "how very progressive of you." He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I had a couple 'funny' friends in the service." She smiled, and jumped slightly when the sizzle of lightning sounded overhead. "Is it safe for us to be in here?" Steve asked, looking around at the metal bus they were in.

"Probably?" A gust of wind blew up and shook the RV.

"Maybe we should go," Steve said, reaching across her to peek out the blinds. The clouds were getting darker as they came in. Emily glanced out the window as well and nodded.

"I'll get dressed." As much as she wanted a shower, Emily kept hearing her father's warning about using running water during a thunderstorm echoing in her head. To appease her dad, she even used a bottle of water to brush her teeth. The storm picked up as she got ready, and Steve kept glancing anxiously out the window.

"We're going to have to make a run for it," he said when Emily was finally ready. She nodded and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. "You're going to get drenched wearing that."

"Well it's all that I've got," she shrugged. Steve looked at the jacket in his arms and shook his head.

"Use this."

"You use it," she pushed it back to him. "I'll be fine with this." Steve huffed.

"I'll hold it over both of us, alright?"

"You're still going to get wet."

"Emily…"

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." He laughed, throwing open the door as he lifted the jacket over his head to cover them both. Emily stepped down, dark spots already appearing on the grey sweatshirt, and slammed the door. Steve had to measure his strides so that he didn't get too far ahead of her, but he didn't mind. Emily had to jump over gouges in the pavement that he simply stepped over, and he smiled when her hand would brush against him.

They finally reached the awning of the small café, and Steve made sure that Emily was under it before pulling his jacket to the side and shaking off the water. "Ugh," she sighed, looking down at her legs. "My feet are soaking wet."

"You need real shoes," he stated.

"You sound like my mother," she huffed. "I like my Chucks."

"They're exercising shoes."

"Not today."

"Well, they're not rain shoes," he amended his statement. "Let's get you warmed up." Emily rolled her eyes but let him open the café door for her.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had gotten a few of the builds up and running again after they'd 'quarantined' the town. Jane (as Dr. Foster now insisted on being called) had told Emily that she usually just lived out of the building she'd taken up as her office, or the RV. Every few weeks she'd take a drive to a nearby town and pick up supplies. But with the influx of S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, that wasn't the best option.

"-hard to leave the strawberries out of it," Tony Stark's voice drifted out.

"It's fine, Tony, I'll just have something else," Pepper sighed.

"God, I can't wait to get out of here. Back to _civilization! _Are you sure we can't go back to Italy?"

"I'm sure. You've got the board meeting-"

"I'm not going to that."

"Tony-"

"Dr. Harthorn! Aren't you supposed to shower and then put your clothes on?"

"You might be losing your touch in the snark department," Emily rolled her eyes. "Morning, Pepper."

"Good morning," Pepper smiled, setting aside the computer tablet she was looking at. "Would you like to join us?"

"Our table's a bit-"

"Sure," Emily nodded, glancing up at Steve. Both Steve and Tony looked upset about this turn of events. After their argument, during which a few choice words had been thrown around, they'd tried to steer clear of each other.

OOO

"_Don't touch my stuff," Tony snapped when Emily turned down the AC/DC that was blasting. _

"_Some of us enjoy our hearing," Emily replied, smiling at Pepper who mouthed 'Thank you'. _

"_Not all of us are senior citizens." _

"_You don't need to be a senior citizen to want to protect your hearing from that noise," Steve smirked._

"_Your AARP discount could help you get a nice hearing aide, Grandpa." _

"_Tony," Pepper said warningly. _

"_What?" he said, trying to sound innocent. "He's worse than my father." Steve glanced down at Emily, who shrugged. _

"_I'm sorry to hear that Howard died. He was a good man. Did a lot for his country."_

"_Uh, trying to work here. Maybe we can take this stroll down memory lane some other time." Pepper sighed and closed the folder she'd been reading._

"_Did you know Howard well?" she asked, trying to play peacemaker. Steve turned and nodded._

"_Yes Ma'am. After Dr. Erskine," Steve reached for Emily who shifted away, "he was the smartest man I knew. Years ahead of his time, too." They could hear Tony muttering something about that._

"_He was," Pepper agreed. "Tony's shown me some of his designs. It's hard to think that he did those in the 40's!"_

"_I saw his demonstration at the World Expo," Steve grinned. "Any idea why the flying car never worked?"_

"_You'd have to ask Tony about that one." There was a crashing sound as something metallic hit the floor._

"_I'm trying to concentrate and this hero worshipping isn't helping." Tony strode over and turned the music up again, louder than before hand. Emily clapped her hands over her ears and glared as the billionaire resumed his previous spot. Steve frowned and looked down at her as Pepper leapt to her feet and turned the stereo off completely. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest._

"_Anthony-"_

"_Miss Potts," he said quickly, "I need you to call Rhodey and let him know that we're going to have to cancel poker night for this week. And tell Happy that I want the Audi ready for me when we land."_

"_Anything else, Mr. Stark?" Pepper asked after a moment._

"_Coffee. And if you could see our _guests_ out, I can get some work done." Steve frowned at the other man's tone. He knew that Pepper was his assistant, but that was honestly no way to speak to a woman. _

"_Mr. Stark, I think you should apologi-"_

"_It's fine," Pepper said quickly. "Would you like to get-"_

"_As I'm the only one actually working here, I get to say what goes," Tony snapped. "Oh, and for the record, my father wasn't a 'good man'." _

"_Guys," Emily said, stepping between Steve and Tony, who were glaring daggers at each other._

"_That's enough," Pepper stated._

"_Howard was a friend, and I won't hear you speaking badly about him."_

"_He was an alcoholic who broke my mother's heart," Tony snapped. He seemed somewhat surprised at his own admission. The silence in the room was deafening; it was only broken when Tony spoke again, "Get. Out."_

"_I was wrong, Mr. Stark," Steve said before they left the tent. "You're nothing like your father. You're just an another spoiled, entitled-"_

"_That's enough, Steve," Emily snapped. _

OOO

When Pepper had approached Emily about reconciling the two feuding men, the historian had told her it wouldn't happen. Steve, never one to rant, had gone quiet and paced for nearly an hour before Emily told him to go for a run. He'd come back drenched in sweat and, after taking a shower, finally talked after she prodded him.

Dugan had told Steve that Howard had financed a yearly expedition to search for him. Had tried to tell him that the war had changed the genius. They'd briefly talked about the younger Stark. Dugan had said that Howard hadn't been a great father, but Steve hadn't expected such anger from him.

"You've just gotta give him some space," Emily had counseled him. And, to make him smile, she'd teased him that some things got better with age, which had made them both blush.

But that had changed after Pepper told her about the team S.H.I.E.L.D. was putting together. And the two women had realized that, though they might never be friends, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark at least needed to be able to be in the same room as each other.

Breakfast, however, might be pushing it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Woohoo! Back to a long chapter! A huge thanks to blown-transistor for helping me out with this chapter. It's a bit delayed today because of the Tony/Steve fight, and she was a major help in getting it done. I'd originally planned on a lot more stuff being in this one, but I guess that'll have to wait until Monday.

So there you have it. Steve's know that he's had feelings for Emily. He just doesn't want to act on them until he's whole again. One guess what he was drawing before Emily work up. I had so much fun writing the gag intro. Blown-transistor asked me to find some way to integrate the Avengers Playboy Bunnies from Comic Con into the story, and major smirking was done at work when I came up with that bit. As for Brock having a crush on Steve and Steve's reaction? A lot of comics have pointed out that Steve is nowhere near homophobic. Just wanted to put that little bit in there = ] And I know that when they were drinking, Emily said she was responsible in her early 20s and took care of everyone else, but she didn't say anything about when she was 18/19.

I hope Tony was in character for the fight. I find it ridiculously hard to write him, which is why I will never write a Tony fic. BUT, Emily knows about The Avengers Initiative! She and Pepper are going to be the behind-the-scenes people trying to get the two strong personalities to work together.

And now, for my moment of appreciation for the Steve Rogers deleted scene. OH DEAR GOD, THE FEELS! I've watched it a million times, and you will definitely see bits of it being integrated into the story at a later date.

Alrighty, now that that's done, here is my public announcement. I start university again on Monday, so I'm not entirely sure how quickly I'll be able to update. I'm going to try to keep it at a twice a week post, but please don't be upset if your inbox doesn't get a new chapter notification! Who knows, if this hurricane hits, I may be able to spend Tuesday in bed writing.

As always, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"You realize that this is now two nights you've pulled me away from work," Emily sighed as Steve held the SUV's door open for her. "I'm not kidding when I say I need to have the presentation perfect."

"It will be," Steve assured her. "You said yourself that you need a break." He smiled at her before closing the door and jogging over to the driver's side.

"Yeah, from S.H.I.E.L.D., not something I actually enjoy. And what are we doing for said break?" she asked once he was seated behind the wheel.

"It's a surprise." Emily rolled her eyes.

"Who gave you a car?"

"Carter." He heard her huff as he turned the ignition and started driving away form the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. "He wanted me to apologize for him."

"If he's really sorry, he can tell me himself."

"That's what I told him. But," he added, "I will say that he did seem genuine about it. Well," a shrug, "as genuine as Carter can be." Emily didn't say anything as he drove them further away from the base.

Steve had asked Coulson if they could leave. He wanted to get Emily away, to somewhere she could clear her head and relax. But, with the threat of Blonsky, he'd pointed out that it was best for them to stick close. S.H.I.E.L.D. had lost track of him after Oregon. When Steve had heard that Blonsky had been in the same town as them…he wanted to kick himself for leaving Emily alone. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

So, he'd come up with this. They would still be within sight of the base, and Carter had made sure the small arsenal in the trunk was ready to go. _That_, Steve wouldn't tell her about. He hadn't forgotten about Emily's dislike of guns.

When the car stopped, she looked around and furrowed her eyebrows. "What are we doing out here?"

"You'll see." He sighed when she didn't wait for him to open her door. Shaking his head, Steve walked to the back of the car and retrieved the case, nudging the duffle bag as he transferred it from his left hand to his right. Emily had walked to the front of the car and looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile as he set the case down and crouched beside it.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked when she saw the telescope.

"Miss Lewis lent it to me."

"So Darcy is in on your kidnapping plan?" She'd come to like the sarcastic intern over the past few days. Darcy, like Emily, seemed to be the only non-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent within a hundred miles. When Darcy had mentioned that she was studying Political Science, they'd discovered a mutual hatred of the Prisoner's Dilemma game theory. "Good to know, in case I disappear out here." Steve frowned and looked up at her, but the smirk tells him she's joking. "Did she show you how to set that thing up?"

"Yes," he chuckled, adjusting the stand and making sure the telescope was firmly in place. "And made me promise to bring it back in one piece or she'd-" Steve stopped talking, and Emily laughed, imagining what kind of threats she could have made. Once he was satisfied that the telescope was set up correctly, he motioned for Emily to look through it.

Once she'd tied her hair back and removed her glasses, she did so and sighed. "I haven't done this since high school." Steve was quiet, watching her, happy that he'd found something she liked. He'd worried that she might laugh at his attempt at a not-really-a-date-date. With another sigh, she stood up and smiled, "Thank you, Steve."

"You're welcome, Emily." She stepped away from the telescope and let him look through it. He aimed at the moon. "I still can't believe someone's been up there." Steve felt Emily's hand settle on his shoulder and glanced up to meet her gaze. When he spoke, his voice betrayed his loneliness, "I missed a lot, didn't I?"

It was so hard to remain professional when he said things like that. Unable to think of anything to say, Em just squeezed his shoulder. His hand covered hers briefly before he turned his attention back to the telescope. She looked up as well, trying to pick out the constellations. Every once in a while, Steve would switch places with her, and they would pick a new spot in the sky to examine.

When Steve was having his turn, Emily took the opportunity to lean against the front bumper of the car. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her arms; it wasn't exactly cold, but the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees from the day's high, and there was a light breeze. With a contented smile, she closed her eyes. "Tired?" Steve was suddenly standing in front of her.

"Not really. It's just…peaceful out here." He nodded.

"You can't see this many stars in the city."

"Nope." He smiled and moved a strand of hair from the corner of her mouth, tucking it behind her ear. Before she could stop him, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her to sit on the hood of the car. "What are you-?"

"Get comfortable," he said before walking to the back of the car. Once he'd retrieved his jacket, Steve draped it across the windshield, and Emily took it as a hint to lie back against it. The car dipped under his weight as he climbed up as well, and settled in next to her, putting one arm behind his head. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends," she shrugged; the familiar smell coming from his jacket was washing over her, making her muscles relax.

"Why didn't you go to law school?" The question had been bothering him ever since she'd first mentioned it back in Oregon.

"You heard Brock's introduction," she shrugged.

"A comic book changed everything?"

"Yup." She felt Steve looking at her and turned to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow, prodding her to say more, so she shrugged. "I mean, I was already studying World War II for my undergrad thesis, but I was focused on the Nuremburg Trials." Steve smiled, remembering the lengthy, in depth discussion they'd had on those. "And then one day I find this comic book about some guy punching out Hitler. So I looked it up and, surprise, there's not a whole lot about it. Some people were selling other memorabilia but there's not much about Captain America's history. Long story short, I talked to my advisor and he said it would be a good topic to cover in graduate school. You can imagine how shocked my parents were when I called them to say, 'So, you know how I've said I wanted to be a lawyer since I could talk? Well, sorry for wasting your time and money, but I'm going to move home for a semester and take a stab at grad school instead'."

"What do you mean you found the comic?"

"It was shoved in one of the books that I bought online for my research. I tried to contact the seller but he would never e-mail me back." She was quiet for a second. "Which is why I think S.H.I.E.L.D. might have sent it to me." Steve reached out and took her hand, and was happy when she let him.

"It's a possibility. But even if they did, you can't be mad for what happened after." Emily frowned and tried to pull her hand from his, but he held fast. "Hear me out," he said quickly. "You wouldn't have changed your plans if you were happy with where you were going."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil," she huffs. He's not quite sure who Dr. Phil is, and she doesn't bother to explain. Steve could still feel her trying to pull her hand away, edging it closer towards herself. After a moment, Emily spoke again, "I'm just fucking sick of finding everything out this way. 'Hey, surprise! The subject of your research is a real freaking superhero! Oh, and by the way, your grandfather is the one that made him this way! Did we forget to mention that he's still alive and kicking after being frozen for 70ish years?' And then 'By the way, we've had someone following you your entire life.' Let's not forget 'Wow! The crazy formula that your grandfather managed to make is still floating around and screwing up more people's lives, and you're lucky that one of those guys didn't break your fucking neck!'."

Steve pressed his lips together tightly, but a chuckle still escaped. "That's right, yuk it up at my life. We've got a god damn comedy right here," Emily huffed and sat up as he started to laugh.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, trying to stop laughing. "You're right. It does sound like something straight out of a movie. Feel better?"

"Kind of," Emily said after a moment's consideration. Her eyes drifted down to their hands and she sighed. Steve tugged gently, pulling her down so that her head was on his shoulder and he could wrap his arm around her.

"Good," he nodded. They were quiet again, just looking at the clear night sky. Emily could feel his breath on her hair, but couldn't bring herself to move. "I'm glad you found that comic."

"You're just happy you didn't get stuck with Dr. Doan."

"Who?"

"He's the only other person who really writes about Captain America. And, despite being my academic idol, I find him to be kind of a jerk." Steve smiled and shook his head.

"You know, I am Captain America." Emily looked up, a confused expression playing on her features. "Sometimes, you make it sound like he's somebody else."

"Oh. Didn't realize I did that. But," she shrugged, "I guess it kind of makes sense, since I don't think of you as Captain America." It was his turn to be confused, and she laughed, "You're Steve Rogers to me." Steve grinned, feeling something utterly content.

"Thanks," he said, pulling her closer to him. Back when he was working for Senator Brandt, Steve knew women admired him. They'd come up to him after shows and flirted, but he'd been too flustered to do much about it. And he'd always known that they were interested in Captain America,_ not_ Steve Rogers.

"No problem," her tone was confused. After a minute she asked, "What do you miss the most about the 40s?" she asked.

"My friends," he answered quickly.

"Other than them, I mean." Steve thought for a moment.

"Everything was a lot simpler back then. I know that we were at war," he added, "and my mother had to work hard for everything, but, I don't know, I just…" He felt her nod.

"I wish I'd lived back then," Emily sighed. When Steve spoke, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"I don't think you would have enjoyed it."

"Oh?" she said, "and why's that?" Steve looked down to meet her gaze and shrugged.

"You're very modern. And it was different for women… it seems like it's easier for them now." He saw her nod slightly. "You probably wouldn't have gotten your doctorate."

"True," she conceded. "But I would have gone to college."

"Probably someplace like Sarah Lawrence," he agreed. She smiled and shook her head.

"I couldn't have afforded it." Steve smirked, thinking about the few women from Sarah Lawrence that'd he'd met. They would come into the city over the weekends, and Bucky had pulled him along on a few double dates with them. The night Steve had met Dr. Erskine had been one of those uncomfortable dates. After the procedure, a pretty blonde on the school's Student War Board had asked him to come visit, and help with boost their war bond sales.

"You'd have found a way."

"Yup," Emily laughed, "could have found some nice, rich officer and married him once he agreed to pay my way." He chuckled, and they sat in silence for a long while. "What do you like the most about now?"

"My friends." Emily grinned, but poked him, wanting a different answer. "Other than that, I don't know." Her raised eyebrow let Steve know he wasn't going to get away with that answer. "I guess things are easier now."

"So thing were simpler then, but easier now?"

"_Life_ was simpler. Today you've got all these things to help you do everything. I mean, there's something that will slice your butter for you." Emily started laughing and sat up, propping her elbow on the car.

"Do you watch the Home Shopping Network?"

"There's nothing else on late at night," he shrugged, which made her laugh harder. When tears started to roll down her cheeks, he laughed as well.

OOO

"Thank, Steve," Emily said as she slid out of the car. He'd been quick enough to open it for her this time. "I really needed tonight."

"You're welcome," he ducked his head. She walked to the RV, and paused when he retrieved the duffle bag from the trunk of the car.

"What's that. _Oh_." Her eyes went wide as Steve wrapped his hand around the edge of his shield. "When did you get that back?"

"Just came in today," he grinned. "Coulson thought I might need it in case something happens at Dr. Foster's demonstration." When they were inside, he propped the shield against the wall in the bedroom, within his reach. Emily and Steve took turns using the bathroom to change into their nightclothes.

While Steve was in the bathroom, Emily took the opportunity to look at the shield more closely. With a quick glance at the bathroom, she lifted it, surprised by how light it was. Fingers lightly traced the ridges the concentric circles before she turned it and slid her arm through the straps.

Steve stepped out of the bathroom and gulped when he saw Emily holding his shield. For a split second, it looked as thought she was naked behind it, with her shoulders and legs bare. His pants tightened slightly at the image. It was better than any pin up he'd ever seen. When she saw him standing there, Emily blushed and lowered the shield, revealing the UMASS shirt from the previous night. Black shorts came into view when she set it back on the ground. "Sorry."

"It," he gulped, "it's fine."

"I, uh, I'm going to get a bit more work done before calling it a night," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, revealing the straps of her brassiere.

"Ok." Steve pressed himself against the wall as she edged past him and back into the kitchenette. It was probably a good thing he would be in bed by himself for a while.

OOO

_The acrid smell of smoke filled his nose as he tried to block out the screams of dying soldiers. Bullets, rather than HYDRA weapons cut them down, and the rusty smell of their blood mingled with the smoke. A mortar landed close by, and Steve dove into a foxhole, lifting the shield to protect him from the dirt that rained down. _

"_I don't want to die out here," the terrified boy who shared the foxhole moaned. He couldn't have been more than eighteen. _

"_Keep moving, Son," Steve ordered. "Keep your head down and-" Something hot and red hit his cheek, and the boy's eyes deadened. Steve reached out and tipped his helmet back in place. There was nothing else he could do for him. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself up, and ran forward, firing at the Germans running towards him. When he reached them, the shield became a battering ram as he knocked them out of the way._

_The machine gun turned its aim on him as he neared. Harsh voices cried orders from in the next, and there was a moment of burning pain as a bullet grazed his thigh. Undeterred, Steve pressed on, vaulting the sand bags and landing in the middle of the group. They scrambled for their guns as he struck out with the shield. _

"_STEVE!" Bucky yelled, jumping into the foray with him. "You idiot!" Bodies were dropping around them. Steve didn't like killing, but if it was between his men and Hitler's, he'd do what he had to._

"_Look out!" Bucky ducked as he turned and decked the man who wouldn't stay down. _

"_STEVE!" _

OOO

"STEVE!" Emily shrieked as he tumbled from the bed, cutting his forehead on the way down. "Oh god, are you-" she leapt back as he jumped to his feet, arms swinging wildly. He let out a scream of rage, grabbing the shield and sliding it onto his arm. Her heart was pounding when she saw the expression on his face. "Steve," she said, holding up her hands as he advanced towards her. "It's me, it's Emily."

She walked backwards, trying to stay out of his reach, "It's not real, Steve. We're right here. It's me, I'm not going to-" her feet tangled in the chord of her laptop and Emily fell backwards, letting out a sharp gasp of pain as her elbow collided with the table. Steve stopped walking and shook himself. When his blue eyes cleared, and he saw her on the floor, the shield fell from his hand.

"Emily?"

"Thank god," she whispered, letting herself lie back. Em forced herself to breathe as she tried to keep her heart from beating out of her chest.

About an hour after Steve had gone to bed, he had started having a nightmare, but Emily hadn't heard. She had her headphones in, and hadn't noticed until he'd let out a particularly loud groan. But by then it was too late. Steve had been flailing around, and Em didn't think she could get close without putting herself at risk. So she'd stood in the doorway and tried to talk him down.

"DR. HARTHORN!" there was a loud pounding on the door, and then a loud rattling as they tried to turn the knob. "What's going on in there?!"

"Nothing!" Emily yelled, sitting up quickly. "Everything's fine!" There was a pregnant pause, during which she refused to meet Steve's stricken gaze.

"Ma'am, could we see you for a second?" Steve groaned, eyes shooting to the bruise on her face. Emily sighed heavily and stood up, kicking the chord out of harms way.

"Yes?" she said. The male agents looked up at her and beckoned her outside. Without a glance at the distraught soldier, she did so.

"We heard a disturbance."

"Everything's under control," she assured them. When she caught their eyes lingering on her bruised cheek, she turned it towards them, and motioned to her knee as well. "Blonsky. If you don't believe me, consult Agents Coulson or Carter. Now, I think you for your concern, but would you mind if I went back inside? I'm kind of tired."

The two exchanged weary glances, as if unwilling to let her out of their sight. "We can-" one started.

"If you…" the older of the two grunted, "if anything happens, we've got agents patrolling the area."

"Thank you, but it's not necessary. Goodnight," she said, resting her hand on the older man's forearm. He looked down at it and then gave her a stern look.

"You be careful, Dr. Harthorn."

"I will." With that said, she ascended back into the RV, where Steve was staring at her horror struck. After another calming breath, she walked towards him, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she pointed back to the bedroom and gave him a significant look. Without another word, he retreated, collapsing onto the bed with his head in his hands. Emily stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, wetting it under the tap and refusing to glance up at the mirror. She didn't want to see her own expression.

"Emily," he nearly sobbed when she sat beside him.

"Shh, it's okay. Now let me look at that." She pushed his hand away and dabbed at the bleeding cut on his forehead. His blue eyes tried to meet hers again, but she focused on the gash.

"Stop," Steve said, pushing Emily's hand away.

"Just let me-"

"Please, just stop," he insisted, pulling away from her.

"You're just going to bleed all over the place," Emily huffed. "You should really get that looked at."

"Would you just stop acting like everything is okay?" he exploded, standing up quickly.

"Steve," she said calmly, standing as well. "It _is_ ok-"

"No, it's not! What if you had been in bed? What if I had-" he cut himself off, unwilling to think about what could have happened. He turned away from her when she reached out to touch him, and buried his hands in his hair.

"I wasn't. Everything's fine." But when he turned quickly towards her, she flinched. That small reaction nearly broke him. Defeated, he collapsed back onto the bed and hung his head.

"I can't," he muttered. "I can't do this."

"Do what?" Emily asked, crouching in front of him, finally meeting his eyes. The hurt there broke her heart. When she tried to put a hand on his cheek, though, he pushed it away.

"I can't have you look at me like that. Like you're afraid I'm going to hurt you when all I want to do is kis-," he pressed his lips together tightly and looked away from her.

Emily froze, not quite trusting what she'd just heard. Hesitantly, she put her hand on his knee, hating how he shied away from her touch. "Steve," she said softly, standing up. "I'm not afraid of you." Once again, Em dabbed at the gash on his forehead, but he refused to look at her. With a heavy sigh, Emily sat back on the bed but turned so that she was angled towards Steve. "Would you please look at me?"

He didn't. Groaning, Em reached across him and put a hand on his cheek. "Steve?" she whispered, leaning closer to him. Her lips brushed his cheek, and she felt his jaw clench under her hand. He resisted the gentle pressure she was exerting, trying to turn him towards her. "Please?" she said, kissing closer to the corner of his mouth.

Steve stood up suddenly and walked out of the bedroom. He leaned against the kitchenette counter, his hands tightly clenching the edge. Emily felt the cold sting of rejection; her hands fell to her lap, and she doubled over, hiding her face. "I can't, Emily. I want to. God, do I want to," he groaned. "But I can't do that to you."

"What are you talking about?" Em asked, pressing her fingers to her eyes in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. "Do what to me?"

"I can't make you go through this again. It's not fair to you, and I can't…I won't let you."

"Damn it, Steve, would you just spit it out!" Emily demanded, looking up quickly.

"I want you to have a normal life," he said after a moment, his shoulders hunched. "And you can't have that with me. I'm broken, Emily. I'm never going to fit in, and I don't even know if its worth trying anymore."

"You are not broken. And it is worth it."

"I don't trust myself around you! Damn it, Emily, I can't even sleep without putting you in danger."

"Fine," she sputtered, standing up and walking over to him. "We won't sleep in the same bed anymore." When she tried to put a hand on his shoulder, he jerked away. "Normal can be overrated."

"I'm never going to get married, or have kids, or get to have a quiet life," Steve said in a defeated tone. "This is it for me. All there is for me is the next mission."

Emily nearly laughed with relief. "Steve," she said, lifting his arm and positioning herself between him and the counter. It fell heavily back in place, essentially holding her in the spot. "That's the PTSD talking. You are going to get all of that. And I'm not asking for it." His eyes briefly met hers before darting to the floor.

"Even if it is," he shook his head. "I won't let you become a war widow again." Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The locket around her neck and the ring on her finger suddenly felt much heavier.

"Listen," she said after a minute, "we're going to table this conversation for now. At least until you can talk to-"

"This conversation is over." There was a ring of finality in Steve's voice that Emily's heart to clench. "Why can't you see what I'm trying to do is what's best for you?" Steve hung his head, defeated. She felt his hair tickling her shoulder and shook her head.

Professional barriers flew out the window. Emily placed her hand on Steve's neck, forcing him to look at her. "Emily," he groaned, his blue eyes searching hers. She shook her head, thumbs stroking the stubble along his jaw as her eyes shot to his mouth. And, before he could stop her, pressed her lips against his.

Steve froze, but she didn't care. When Emily's hands drifted up the back of his neck and she buried her fingers in his hair, he finally moved. His hands slide closer to her on the counter until they found her waist. She nibbled on his lower lip, causing him to groan as he stepped closer, making his body flush with hers. Bolts of heat shot through her, and she could feel him stirring her. The wood was digging into her back, and when she made a small sound of protest, he paused. Steve pulled back, the lust in his eyes a mirror of hers. But then he pulled away further, stepping out of her arms and shaking himself. "No."

"You don't get to dictate what's best for me, Steve Rogers," Emily said, her voice and knees shaking. "But for now, I'll go along with it." They stood in silence for a long minute, Steve staring at the floor, before Emily moved. His eyes shot up to watch her grab her shoes and sweater.

"I'll go," he said quickly. "Emily, you stay here." She shook her head and threw open the door, tossing her shoes to the ground and slipping them on quickly. "Emily," Steve raised his voice but she slammed the door. He had to fight the urge to turn and punch something.

Emily forced herself to take a deep, shaky breath as the cool night air soothed her burning face. She slipped on her shoes and flung the cardigan around her shoulders as she moved away from the RV. Being around Steve right now when he was hell bent on doing "what was best" for her wasn't going to help her calm down. No matter how many times she said it, Steve apparently didn't understand that she was a grown woman, not some scared little girl who needed to be protected from ever bump in the night. Even if it was a two hundred some-odd pound bump comprised of muscle, intent on destroying some imagined enemy.

She stopped walking and shuddered. As much as she wanted to appear strong, seeing Steve like that had been frightening. But she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He'd done nothing but protect her, and when she'd been in pain, he'd snapped out of it. It had taken Garrett much, much more. Em pressed a shaky hand to her mouth and forced herself to calm down.

"Emily?" a voice called from overhead. She looked up and saw Jane leaning over the roof of a building.

"Hey." She could see Jane frowning.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hang on. I'll be right down." Within a minute, Jane was standing in front of Emily. "What happened to your face?"

"Long story," Emily waved it off.

"Did Steve-?"

"No! No," she said quickly, "someone else. It's why we had to come here."

"But something happened with Steve." The probing look Jane gave her made Emily sigh and nod. The astrophysicist jerked her head up, "Come on, I've got coffee upstairs." Emily shook her head and followed her to the roof, where a small fire pit was set up with two lawn chairs by it.

"Nice set up," Emily smirked.

"It's my hide out. Now what happened." Jane passed her a cup of coffee and leveled her gaze on the historian, who hung her head.

"Have they told you about Steve?"

"Not really."

"Well, you've got an alien-"

"Asgardian," Jane corrected.

"Asgardian," she conceded, "and I've got a World War II soldier." Jane raised an eyebrow but sat in silence as Emily told her about Steve, and what he was going through and her connection to him.

"I guess nothing should surprise me with S.H.I.E.L.D.," Jane said when she finished. "Darcy thought he might be like Rocky from Rocky Horror, but he looked too much like baseball and apple pie." Emily bit her lip and chuckled.

"She's not too far off the mark."

"Well, at least you've got your guy. I'm doing all of this," Jane motioned to the camp, "for someone I've only known for three days."

"He's not my guy. And this," Em mimicked her action, "is a point of professional pride. I may not understand what's going on, but I know it's ground breaking. You're doing it for more than just a guy."

The two women were quiet for a long moment as they settled back in their lawn chairs. "We really know how to pick them, don't we," Jane said finally.

"You're telling me," Emily agreed.

* * *

**Author's Note:** No guys, I did not spend my first class thinking about this chapter and not paying attention. I absolutely did not go to bed at 2 in the morning and wake up at 6 to make sure this was done. All I've gotta say is thank god for coffee, and my beta, blown-transistor!

Steve. Oh Steve. He's so sweet and considerate, but so damaged. His dream comes from this comic quote someone posted on Tumblr, "You know what I see when I dream, Sharon? I see the war. My war. After all this time, I still dream about foxholes in the Black Forest… still hear the screams of terrified soldiers, smell their blood and tears… I still dream about Bucky. Him and all the others I couldn't save… It hardly seems fair, after so much time has passed in the world, that in my dreams it's still 1944." So heartbreaking.

No, I do not go to Sarah Lawrence, or know anyone who's gone there. It's the first women's college I could think of, and their war time efforts were pretty interesting. They actually did has a war board which worked with the women to get them involved (volunteering, etc.). After the War, a lot of women got pushed out of universities as soldiers came back and began to use their GI bills. I don't think Emily would have gone that way.

The scene with the shield and Em...I've been trying to find a way to work that in for a while. And Steve's got his stuff back! Woohoo! And I caved to popular pressure with the kiss. It wasn't supposed to happen, but you guys got to me. And I always felt like anyone dating Steve would have a special relationship with Jane. They've both got guys who don't really know everything that's going on, with time travel and being from a different dimension.

As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you think!


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

_There now, steady love, so few come and don't go_  
_Will you won't you, be the one I'll always know_  
_When I'm losing my control, the city spins around_  
_You're the only one who knows, you slow it down_

_Oh, oh _  
_Be my baby_  
_Ohhhhhh_  
_Oh, oh_  
_Be my Baby_  
_I'll look after you_  
_And I'll look after you_

_Look After You by The Fray_

* * *

Emily lay in bed, hair flung over the foot of it, and absent mindedly ran her middle finger down her sternum, and then back up. It was a lazy day where she didn't feel like doing anything but laying there and trying not to think.

It was now the second day since The Kiss. Without realizing it, Em had started to think of the moment in capitals. Fingers drifted up to her lips as she remembered the feeling of Steve's mouth moving against hers before she'd stupidly made a sound.

He was avoiding her. It was made all the easier when Carter showed up on the roof where she and Jane had fallen asleep, and informed her that Steve was moving into the temporary living quarters that he and Sharon shared. Sharon would be shifting over to stay with her. Despite her protesting, Carter told her that it was already done. And, true to his word, Steve's things were already gone by the time she'd gotten back and Sharon had somehow managed to turn the kitchen table into another bed ("They didn't tell you that when you got here?" she scowled).

Steve had somehow managed to disappear into the growing number of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Sharon was a good roommate, in that 'I-don't-really-know-you-but-our-families-are-friends-but-don't-forget-I-can-kill-you-with-a-toothpick' way. She was usually up before Emily, and out the door just as she was waking. Em knew that she didn't like the late night work sessions, but hadn't said anything, so Em had just kept going. Without any distractions, she'd managed to finish the presentation, and had e-mailed it to Dr. Collins for a quick once-over.

Em had spent the day with Jane and Darcy, occasionally joined by Pepper who seemed to be handing some crisis for Tony (but what else was new). But with the demonstration tomorrow, Jane was on edge and Darcy might have warned her that staying clear would be for the best.

So she was staying in bed. There was nothing for her to do today. Emily had already called Dr. Thompson about Steve's most recent nightmare. She'd danced around what had caused Steve to say he wouldn't have a normal life, but one devoid of love and family, although she was sure Thompson had a good idea of what had changed. Tucker, her brother, had called on behalf of Lauren to ask why Em hadn't called her blind date back ("Em, he's a friend from law school. Dinner is all Lauren's asking for"). A quick chat with her parents, and Emily had fulfilled all familial obligations to check in.

The light caught the facets of her ring and reflected it at the ceiling. Emily twisted her hand, making the little dots dance across the ceiling before she sighed. There was another call that she could make. It had been a long time since she'd spoken to Garrett's parents, and that had been mostly through e-mail. For graduation, they'd sent her a card with their congratulations, and told her how proud Garr would have been of her.

Emily bit her lower lip as she held up her hand and slid the ring off her right hand and onto her left. It was a little sad, she though, how odd it now felt resting on her ring finger. When Garrett had given it to her, she'd felt the same way.

OOO

"_NO!" Emily shrieked. "Absolutely not!"_

"_Come on, babe!" Garrett prodded. When she tried to back away from the edge of the cliff, he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her against his bare chest. "It's gonna be fun." _

"_Not everyone gets a thrill from jumping off of things," she spat, trying to dig in her heels on the rock. Garrett pushed her forward a little bit and laughed as she stumble against him._

"_Come on, Emily!" their friends laughed. "Jump!" _

_It was a scorching hot Arizona day. Garrett and his fellow Army buddies had been in the state finishing up the qualifications as high altitude parachutists. They'd flown their wives and girlfriends out for the ceremony where they were awarded their badge. Rather than flying back to North Carolina right away, they'd decided to take a trip to Lake Powell. _

"_I won't let anything happen, Hon," Garrett said, brushing his lips over her shoulder, "I promise. It's just you and me." He gently bit her neck. "Always."_

"_Not jumping," Emily breathed as their friends howled for them to get a room._

"_On the count of three. One-"_

"_No-"_

"_Two-"_

"_Garr-"_

"_THREE!" Emily screamed as Garrett dragged her to the edge and jumped off with her in his arms. They sank down in the water and came up sputtering._

"_GARRETT MICHAEL O'CONNELL!" she pushed his shoulders as he shook his black hair from his face. _

"_Admit it," he laughed, his green eyes sparkling with excitement, "that was fun." In response, Emily splashed him and started to swim towards the boat they'd rented for the day. But he grabbed her and hauled her back to him. "Hey, not done with you, Emmie." _

"_Oh, I'm done with you, Garr," she frowned. _

"_You mean that?" He chuckled at her emphatic nod. "Really? Just because I made you take the plunge?" _

"_Definitely."_

"_You sure? 'Cause I think I want to do it again." _

"_You're on your own for that one." _

"_I'd rather do it with you." _

"_No way in hell." Garrett laughed and pulled her against him, his legs beating the water to keep them afloat._

"_You already took one plunge with me. What's one more?"_

"_I said-"_

"_Marry me." Emily's mouth fell open. "I love you, Emily Rose Harthorn, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, even if you do-" His words were cut off as Emily pressed her lips to his. When she finally let him up for air, he grinned. "Is that a yes?" _

"_Yes," she laughed, tears falling down her cheeks. _

"_WHAT'D SHE SAY?!" their friends yelled. Garrett thrust his fist in the air and he kissed his fiancée as they burst into cat caws and cheers._

OOO

Emily had just decided to call Garrett's mother when she heard the door open, and felt the RV shift as someone came inside. She put the phone back on the bed; that wasn't a call she wanted an audience for. For some reason, Sharon Carter didn't seem to be the type that could deal with an upset roommate. With a sigh, Em took off the ring and placed the band between her thumb and forefinger, trying to catch the light again.

So it was a surprise when the divider slid open and, instead of Sharon, Emily saw Steve. And dear God, he looked like hell. There were dark circles under his surprised blue eyes. It looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days, and his shoulders were hunched. The cut on his forehead, however, seemed to have skipped the scabbing stage and was now just an angry pink line. Emily sat up quickly, slipping the ring back onto her right hand, and shifted away as she folded her bare legs under her and adjusted the camisole top. "Hey," she said.

"I-I didn't think anyone was in here," he said, hand shooting to scratch the nape of his neck.

"Just me," she smiled nervously, running hand through her hair and appreciating the volume her prolonged head hanging had given it.

"Oh." His eyes shot to the floor. The smile dropped from Emily's mouth at the sound.

"I can leave if you'd like."

"No!" Steve's eyes met hers. "I mean, you don't have to. I just thought that I might have left my sketchbook in here."

"I haven't seen it since…" she trails off, thinking about rainy morning he'd shown her his drawings. After a moment, in which Steve shifts awkwardly, Em shook herself. She turned and laid on the bed again, hanging her head over the side to look under it. "Ah ha! Geeze, can't believe that worked. You usually can't find stuff under the bed." Notebook in hand, Em pulled herself up and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

"Thanks," Steve said, reaching for it.

"You know, you probably wouldn't have forgotten it if you hadn't packed like a madman." His hand froze in mid-reach. The accusatory tone Emily used, coupled with the raised eyebrow, makes him sigh.

"Emily, please."

"So no discussion at all?"

"There's nothing to discuss." He reached for the book again, but Emily held it over her shoulder, out of his reach. Childish, yes, but playing keep away with him at least gave her time to talk to him.

"Really? Because I think we have a lot to talk about. Like your most recent nightmare? Or maybe your stupid assumption that you're going to hurt me? Or-"

"It's not a stupid assumption," Steve snapped. "God, Emily, I don't know-why won't you understand that I'm trying to do what's right?"

"Because you're wrong," she shot back. "And, for your information, every time you've had a nightmare, you've done nothing but protect me." Steve opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and furrowed his eyebrows. "Shall we count?" Em asked, setting the sketchbook behind her and holding up her hand. "There was the first one in Atlanta, where you hurled yourself out of bed to protect me from a mortar-"

"There was no mortar," Steve paled. He knew she was lying when she'd said he'd just fallen out of bed.

"_And_ then there's the incident with the noise when Jane powered up her machine and you pulled me away from what you thought was a HYDRA weapon."

"It wasn't-"

"And I'm not sure if anyone's told you this, but you're a noisy sleeper. I can't tell you how many times you've grabbed me at night when you think Blonsky is around."

"I didn't mean-"

"_And_ lastly," Emily ignored his continued attempts to speak as she got to her knees and moved closer to him to jab his chest, "when you were having that nightmare the other night, you snapped out of it the minute that _I_ hurt _myself_. So you can just drop this whole idea that you're a danger to me because all evidence points to the contrary."

Steve was momentarily speechless as she glared at him. He had to fight the urge to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her against him. "Emily," he sighed. "I can't-" She shook her head vigorously and sat back on her heels, arms falling to her lap.

"If," she took a shaky breath, seeming to have lost her steam, "if you don't want to be with me, then that's my problem to deal with."

"It's not that I don't –" Steve reached for her and put a hand over her mouth when Emily opened it to speak again, "No, you said your piece, now it's my turn. It's not that I don't want to be with you, Em, it's that I can't." She shook her head and pulled his hand away from her face.

"It's that you won't. And don't call me 'Em'." Steve frowned, momentarily distracted.

"Everyone else calls you 'Em'."

"Exactly. _You_," she pointed at him, "only ever call me Emily. It sounds weird when you call me 'Em'." Steve fought against the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth and lost. Emily looked down at the blanket and bit her lower lip before peeking up to meet his gaze. "You look like crap, Steve."

"I'm fine."

"Don't you lie to me, Steve Rogers." Em cringed internally, realizing that she sounded exactly like her own mother when she said that. "You haven't been sleeping, and I've never seen you with that much stubble on your face." Steve rubbed a hand across his cheek and frowned.

"I'll make sure to shave before I see you again."

"And sleep." His hesitation made her roll her eyes. Emily retrieved the sketchbook from behind her and held it up. "You're no good to anyone at Jane's demonstration tomorrow if you're dead on your feet. So you don't get this back until you sleep." Steve's eyes darted from the book to her eyes, and he knew he needed to get it, in case Emily get curious and look through it.

"I promise I'll sleep. Can I have my book?"

"That's not the deal. You – hey!" She leaned back as Steve reached for it and slapped his arm away. "Sleep and then you get this back."

"If you give it to me now, I'll go and get some sleep. You have my word." Emily shook her head and put the book behind her back again, switching hands as Steve lunged for it again.

"Steve, you've disobeyed orders before, so your word, when it comes to stuff you want or don't want to do, doesn't mean much."

"What?" Steve frowned.

"Case and point: when you went after the 107th."

"I had to get Bucky!"

"I know, I know," Emily held up her hand to placate him. "And what you did was absolutely wonderful and incredibly brave."

"I was just doing what I had to do," he scratched the nape of his neck again.

"Which is exactly what I'm doing," Emily stated. "If you won't take care of yourself, Steve, than I will." The steely gaze she fixed him with made Steve want to reach over and kiss her but he fought back the impulse. It had been so long since someone wanted to take care of him, not because he was an asset, but because of whom _he_ was. "Now, I only see one way that I can make sure you sleep."

"Oh?" She nodded and patted the bed.

"Crash here for a bit. I'll go surf the web in the other room." Although he wasn't quite sure what crashing had to do with sleeping, or how someone could 'surf the web', Steve got the gist of what she was saying.

"I'm not going to make you leave your room," Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine," Emily smirked, scooting back on the bed until her back was against the pillows. "You get some Zz's and I'll mess around on my computer."

"I didn't-" Steve sputtered, "I, uh-"

"It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed together before."

"What if…what if I have another nightmare?"

"If you do," she said slowly, "and it gets bad, I'll leave. I promise." Steve tried to find some reason to back out of this, but his resolve was wavering. He was tired, and he needed the sketchbook…

"At the first sign of trouble, you're out of here," he said sternly.

"Scout's honor." The corner of Steve's mouth twitched as he walked to the other side of the bed and sat down to toe off his shoes.

"Were you a scout?"

"I made it to Juniors before Mom got sick of taking me to meetings. You?"

"Yeah. Didn't get far because of my asthma, though."

"I still can't picture you with asthma," Emily smiled as Steve laid back.

"It was bad," he shrugged. "I was sick all of the time." She shook her head and handed him the sketchbook.

"Enough talking. Get some sleep."

"Yes, Ma'am," he nodded. Once the book was safely slipped under the pillow, Steve rolled onto his side so that his back was facing Emily. With another eye roll, Em got her computer and propped it against her knees, settling in for a long session of mindless Internet trolling.

At least that was the plan until about forty-five minutes after Steve fell asleep, he rolled over and threw his arm across her, just under her bust. Smirking, Em looked from his arm to his face and shook her head. The computer was returned to its spot on the floor and she turned in his arms to face him. When she reached out and stroked the course hairs on his cheek, he smiled against her hand. She felt her own eyes fluttering close as he pulled her closer towards him, tucking her head under his chin.

"I knew she'd find a way to get him back in her bed," Carter said to Sharon nearly an hour later, when they came into the RV.

OOO

Steve buckled his belt and swung his arms, making sure the uniform allowed for optimal movement. After strapping the gun holster to his thigh, he pulled on his gloves and flexed his fingers. The helmet sat on the table, but he didn't reach for it. Instead he stepped in front of the mirror and inspected himself.

The uniform looked almost new. The battlefield patches he'd done had been ripped out and professionally repaired; areas that had grayed with use were returned to their original white coloring. After straightening his belt and adjusting the laces of his boots, Steve grabbed the helmet and walked out of the room.

"Ready?" he asked Carter. Emily, who had been looking over the pictures tacked to Jane's pin boards, turned and felt her jaw drop. Standing in front of her was her research incarnate. Her eyes traveled from his boots to his torso, where they lingered on the American flag color scheme, before moving onto the white star on his chest. By the time Em met his eyes, Steve had a small smile playing on his lips, and he'd gone slightly red. She was happy to see that the dark circles under his eyes were gone and he was once again clean-shaven.

"You might need this," Carter said, nodding to the shield that was lying on the desk beside him. Steve turned away from Emily and jerked his head, trying not to think of the last man who had said those exact words to him. "Breathe, Em," he added, smirking in Emily's direction.

Emily closed her mouth and removed her glasses. Ignoring the heat pooling in her lower stomach, she wiped the lenses on the hem of her shirt. "You…that-" she cleared her throat, "that's not what was on your posters."

"No," Steve agreed, "but I based the design off of it." He heard her soft 'oh' of response and turned back to Carter. "Coulson said you'd have a pistol for me?"

"Yes," Carter said, standing up. He withdrew a Colt M1911A1 from the bag at his feet. "Thought you might feel more at ease having yours back." Steve walked over to him and took the gun, feeling the familiar weight in his hand. "It's been checked over and test fired. Still as good as new."

"That's your original gun?" Emily asked, moving towards them. She froze when Steve turned towards her, her aversion to guns overriding her curiosity.

"Made sure of it myself," Carter grinned. "Coulson put a Tommy gun in the back of our car just in case. Older version, but still powerful." After checking the chamber, Steve placed the gun in the thigh holster and secured it.

"We should probably go." Steve looked over at Emily. "We'll be back as soon as we can."

"Excuse me?" she sputtered. "I'm going with you." Steve glanced at Carter, who shrugged as if to say 'You handle this'.

"It'd be better if you stayed here."

"Absolutely not!" Emily protested. "You think I'm going to sit pretty when there's a chance this could work? That this worm hole theory could be proven?"

"It'll be safer," Steve said.

"Nothing is going to happen!"

"There wouldn't be so many agents here if they thought there wasn't a chance," he crossed his arms over his chest and squared his shoulders.

"You're just being old fashioned and surprisingly sexist," Emily shot back.

"Trying to protect someone I care about is sexist?"

"Assuming I can't take care of myself is."

"Those bruises are enough proof for me." Emily threw up her hands and walked away from him, ignoring the smirk on Carter's face.

"_Tu es un cr__é__tin_! I'm going to be out there. Jane, Darcy, and Pepper are going to be."

"Dr. Foster has to be, and Miss Lewis is going to be helping her. If Stark is alright with Ms. Potts being there, I can't stop him."

"You think Pepper needs his permission?" Emily rolled her eyes. "And just for the record," she stepped forward and poked him in the chest, "I don't need yours either."

"Damn it Emily, would you please listen to me just this once?" Emily's raised an eyebrow when he cursed.

"You've got to pick your battles, Steve, and this one that you're going to lose." He turned away from her and one gloved hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair. She was so infuriating!

"If you're going to be-"

"_If_?" He growled with frustration.

"Fine, _when_ you're out there, you stay behind me at all times." When she opened her mouth to protest, Steve ignored her and continued, "And if I say run, you do it. No questions asked."

"I quite agree with him," Carter said.

"Stay out of it, you," Emily snapped.

"There's always the option of tying you to a chair," the agent grinned.

"If you ever do that, I swear to God, I'll kill you."

"You'll make sure she gets out in case anything happens?" Steve asked, turning is attention to Carter. They both ignored her frustrated assurance that nothing was going to happen.

"You have my word," Carter nodded.

"I'm a grown woman, not a child that has to be looked after," Emily scowled. "Now if you two don't hurry up, we're going to be late." Without another word, she stomped out of the lab Jane had let them use and into the waiting SUV.

"Women," Carter rolled his eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, I'm really sorry about not posting this on Friday but it's honestly been a hell of a week. As if classes and work wasn't enough, some major family drama went down, and then I got a freaking 24 hour bug that knocked me on my ass. Let me tell you, my bathroom floor is not comfortable. A big thanks to my beta, blown-transistor, for all of her help. Also, props to DoctorDoctor for guessing the song for this chapter. The Fray is one of those bands that I listen to a lot when writing this fic (the title actually comes from one of their songs!)._  
_

A few notes about this chapter. While I'm not entirely sure Steve actually was a Boy Scout, the organization was founded in 1910, with the Girl Scouts following two years later in 1912. The last words Lord Falsworth spoke to Steve before he went down were "You might need this" when they were in the HYDRA base and Steve was going after Schmidt. While I am no expert in guns (like Emily, I'm uncomfortable being around them), the ones mentioned are based off of the Wiki page for the movie. There are multiple scenes where a Tommy gun is used (the old lady when Erskine is killed, the Howlers, and Steve are all seen with one). Emily's bit of french, "_Tu es un cretin", _means 'You're an idiot'. Also, yes, Steve is using the older suit, not the one in The Avengers. Why? Because I like the other one better. Yes, it would have been damaged, but hey, it's fan fiction. Just go with it, lol.

So, I'm not entirely sure if there will be a posting on Monday. I've got a tad bit of the next chapter written, as there was going to be more to this one, but it got cut when I hit page 11. If not, I'll try to post by Wednesday at the latest. That being said, I might be going home to help with the family drama, so two posts next week might not happen either. Just let me say, you guys are lucky I'm even posting at all and not sitting in a jail cell somewhere.

But thank you guys for all of your support. We're one review away from 400! You guys are freaking amazing. And though I didn't respond to messages/reviews this past week, I have read them, and I will be getting back to you shortly. Honestly, you guys helped me get through a tough week, so a huge, huge thanks to you. I hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think!


	31. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

_The sun left me so quickly_  
_ I am stuck under the moon_  
_ I want to belong to you_

_I pray no one will find you_  
_ I'll stay right where I am_  
_ 'Til you come back_  
_ Don't let me lose you_  
_ Before there's a chance to begin_

_ I wanna belong to you_

_Katie Herzig – I Want To Belong To You_

* * *

The car ride was silent, uncomfortably so. Emily was still fuming about Steve and Carter's over protectiveness. Carter was focused on what was about to happen, trying to make sure that every base was covered. And Steve…Emily could see that his head was bowed and his eyes closed. His hands were folded in his lap, and he had a peaceful look on his face. After another moment, he raised his right hand and made the sign of the Cross. When his eyes opened, the peaceful look was replaced with one of intense concentration.

Despite her frustration with the overabundance of testosterone both men were exhibiting, Em knew that they had her best interest in mind. That didn't change the facts, however. She was an adult and would like to be treated as such. Unthinkingly, she reached out to Steve's shield, which was sharing the back seat with her, and let her thumb stroke one of the ridges. Emily sent up a silent hope that this day would go well for Jane, and that no one would be hurt.

"Now don't you two look like the most patriotic couple in the world," Tony smirked when the car pulled up at the Bifrost site. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, and the cost of the tailored suit he wore would probably pay for a few months of Emily's car payment. A reddish metal case was by his feet.

Emily looked down at her outfit (a cranberry A-line skirt that fell to just above her knees and sleeveless white wrap blouse), and then at Steve. He'd left his helmet back at the base, but there was no refuting that he was, in fact, Captain America. She bit the corner of her mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened. There was no denying it, they did look rather patriotic standing next to each other. But honestly, she'd had no idea what to wear to a potential alien welcoming party, so she'd gone with what every woman did: ask what every other woman was wearing.

Pepper had gone with her usual business attire. Jane had dressed up as well, abandoning her normal jeans and layered shirt look for dark grey slacks and a royal blue shirt. Darcy had also switched it up and gone with a black polka dot button up over a white camisole with her trademark jeans and Chuck Taylors. All in all, Em thought she'd done well.

"Mr. Stark," Steve nodded.

"Captain." Emily sighed and smoothed her skirt before walking over to join Pepper.

"Captain Rogers," Coulson said. He looked like he was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Think they'll be able to stay civil?" the redhead asked, glance over the rim of her sunglasses at the two men who were sizing each other up. Emily adjusted the frames of her sunglasses and shrugged.

"Fingers crossed. Jane looks like a nervous wreck." The both looked over at the astrophysicist who appeared a little green around the gills. Both Darcy and Dr. Selvig looked as thought they were trying to get her to calm down.

"Darcy said she didn't sleep all night."

"That's understandable."

"He looks just like he did in that picture Tony has," Pepper sighed. Emily frowned, not quite following the change in conversation, and followed her gaze to where Steve was talking with Carter and Coulson.

"What picture?"

"Howard apparently had one in his office of himself and Steve," Pepper shrugged. "Tony told me that he used to point to it and tell him that he was the standard that all men needed to be held up to."

"Oh." That explained a lot, Emily thought at she looked at the two men. She felt a sudden surge of sympathy for Tony Stark. It couldn't have been easy growing up in the shadow of Captain America. And god, she sighed, Steve had called him spoiled and entitled! Ugh. She would need to have a talk with him.

"Is it weird that I feel the sudden need to recite the Pledge of Allegiance?" Darcy asked as she walked over to join them. "I mean…" she motioned to where Steve was standing and Emily chuckled.

"I'm sure he'd love that. How's Jane?"

"Well," Darcy pushed her glasses further up her nose, "she'll either be having some really great reunion sex to look forward to tonight, or a huge bottle of Jack."

"Here's hoping for the former," Emily murmured.

"Hey!" Darcy perked up with Tony wandered over, "Is that the Iron Man suit?"

"Yes," Tony nodded, setting the metal case on the ground.

"Any chance I can see it in action? YouTube only does so much for a girl."

"I've been informed that the suit is not a toy," he said solemnly, before looking at Pepper, then back at the busty brunette. "But maybe later."

"Sweet," Darcy grinned. "Well, I'm going to see if Jane needs anything. Remember, if things don't go well, you two have plans tonight." Pepper and Emily nodded.

"I'm not invited?" Tony asked.

"Girl's Night."

"But I'm the life of the party!" Darcy waved off his comment. "Dr. Harthorn," he belatedly acknowledged Emily.

"Mr. Stark. Do you think this is going to work?" she motioned to the machine.

"The mechanics are sound. The rest of it," he shrugged, "as Dr. Foster's informed me numerous times 'It's astrophysics! Not engineering!'." She was just about to ask another question when Jane cleared her throat loudly.

"Uh, hello," she said, sounding somewhat nervous. Her hands fluttered by her waist, as if she was going to tug at the hem of her shirt but belatedly realized she'd tucked it in. "Welcome. Today Dr. Selvig and I will be attempting to open an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. In order to do so, we have built this machine, which utilizes energy concentrated to the-"

"As per your agreement, you're supposed to be standing with Steve," Carter hissed in Emily's ear, blocking out Jane's words.

"Shh," she hushed him, trying to follow the technical jargon. Every once in a while, Jane's eyes would dart to where Pepper and Emily were, looking for familiar, friendly faces. They smiled encouragingly; both women knew how nerve-wracking addressing a crowd could be.

"Emily," Carter again spoke in her ear. "If you won't do this for your own safety, won't you remember what happened the last time Steve was around that machine?" She tensed her shoulders. In all honesty, Em had been more focused on Jane's need rather than Steve's. But Carter was right; she needed to be with Steve when the thing turned on, if only to help him if he had another flashback.

"Go," Pepper urged her quietly. "She'll still be able to see you." Emily glanced at the woman and smiled slightly before they squeezed each other's hand slightly. On her other side, Coulson nodded slightly.

"See you after."

"Of course." While Tony's head hadn't turned from Jane's presentation, Emily had the distinct impression that he was watching the little exchange. When she backed away, Em smiled when she saw him wrap a protective arm around Pepper's waist.

A few agents were standing between Steve and Tony. Emily skirted around them, trying to be as inconspicuous as someone wearing red in a sea of black could be. When she did get to him, she slipped between Steve and the agent, who shifted to allow her to stand in front of him. Carter took up a spot on Steve's other side.

"-application of the Foster Theory," Dr. Selvig said, smiling down at his former student. "Now, in just a moment we will begin."

"Talk amongst yourselves," Darcy smirked, making a shooing motion at the gathered crowd. The corner of Jane's mouth quirked up in a small, appreciative smile before her eyes darted first to Pepper and, with a small frown, scanned the crowd. Emily caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up, which earned her a small 'ok' hand motion.

"Did you understand any of what Dr. Foster said?" Steve asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Not a word," Emily assured him, still smiling at the three standing by the machine. "But she's nervous as hell so I'm going to keep smiling and hope for the best." His mouth tipped up into a side smile before he reached out for her hand and tugged her backwards.

"You're supposed to stand behind me at all times, remember?"

"They haven't even started anything," her voice was suddenly sullen.

"All times, Emily," Carter echoed.

"You two are _seriously_ going to piss me off if you keep treating me like a kid," Emily huffed, pulling her hand out of Steve's grasp and crossing her arms over her chest. Her hip jutted out as she glared at both men. "It was cute and endearing at first, but I'm not joking when I say knock it off." One of the agents standing near them started to chuckle, but turned it into a hasty cough when both Carter and Emily scowled at him.

"Em-"

"_No_," she cut Carter off.

"This isn't the place to have this conversation," Steve said quietly, looking around at the agents, who suddenly seemed to find Jane's machine very interesting. Emily followed his sweeping gaze before nodding.

"You're right. We'll continue this later." She lifted her chin and turned back to face Jane, arms still crossed. There was a soft rustle of material as Steve shifted so that he was standing beside her. Em arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

She'd noticed a difference in Steve since he'd put on his suit (her mind refused the word 'costume' as it seemed childish, and there was nothing about it that made Steve seem like a kid). While he was never one to slouch, he seemed to stand a bit taller. His blue eyes darted around, as if trying to analyze troop movements or something of the sort. Even the way he spoke had changed. There was a subtle ring of authority, as though he were addressing soldiers.

"We're ready," Jane announced. Her eyes again flickered towards Emily before they shot to Steve. He inhaled before giving a slight nod. Em glanced up at him when she saw Jane give him a small smile before typing something on the keyboard. She tensed when the electrical whining began, half expecting Steve to grab her again.

Steve tightened his grip on the leather strap of his shield and clenched his jaw. The noise kept building, and he felt Emily watching him so he looked at her for a split second before returning his focus to the machine. It felt like ages, but he knew it was only moments, before Dr. Foster made a hand motion and hit a button.

Emily gasped as the energy was released. There was a loud _boom_ that reverberated in her chest, and she clapped her hands to her ears as a light wind played with her hair. A white pillar of light had erupted from the top of the triangular tower, piercing straight through the cloud cover. From the corner of her eye, Em saw Steve shifting to lift his shield.

There was crackling sound, somewhat like lightning, and the beam of light disappeared. The whining of the machine died down. Everyone looked up, and Emily didn't even realize that Steve had moved again to place himself in front of her.

It was…impossible, Emily thought. Even thought it was sunny and bright, in the small gap between the clouds, she could see stars and the curving spirals of another galaxy. The center was a reddish-brown color, but as it spun outward it became a purple-blue. It was heart breaking-ly beautiful.

Steve reached out and took Emily's hand. He wasn't able to pull his eyes away from the sky and needed something to ground him. When Emily let out a shaky breath, he squeezed her hand.

The area of sky started to collapse upon itself. Fewer and fewer stars were visible as the blue of the Earth's sky resealed itself. Emily inhaled sharply when, with another _boom_, the galaxy disappeared. A rumbling sound echoed, and suddenly there was a strong down draft, creating a sand storm.

Emily didn't have time to move before Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and pull her against him, her cheek pressed against his chest. He lifted his shield and ducked down under it, trying to cover both of them. The grains of sand pelted her bare arms and legs, stinging like needles, and her hair lashed her face. Her hand shot out to grab her skirt as it flapped against her legs.

After a minute, the wind died down.

"Holy shit," Darcy's voice rang out over the silent group. There was a heartbeat before nervous laughter broke out. Steve chuckled and lowered his shield, his eyes focused on Emily.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded, holding his gaze. They just looked at one another for a moment, stupid smiles on both of their faces.

"God," Carter growled, "I've have sand in unnatural places now." Steve stepped back, his arm still wrapped around Emily's waist, and smirked at Carter. The Brit was covered in dust. His dark hair looked much closer to a shade of brown, and the suit he wore definitely needed a good cleaning.

"Wow," Emily bit her lip in an attempt to stop herself from laughing.

"Yes, thank you so-"

"Jane! Oh my god, are you alright?" Pepper's shrill voice came overcame Carter's rant. Emily's head whipped around and her eyes landed on Jane, who was crouched by the machine. It looked like Dr. Selvig had forced Jane and Darcy down and tried to shield them.

"I'm fine," Jane said, her voice shaky.

"_Merde_," Emily curse, shaking off Steve's hold and rushing over to her friend. There was a nasty cut on Jane's forehead, and blood was dripping down her face. "What happened?"

"Rock," Jane muttered.

"We need to get you to a doctor," Dr. Selvig insisted, turning her face to inspect the cut.

"It's fine, Erik."

"Here," Darcy said, shedding her blouse and passing it to Jane. "I don't like this one anyways."

"I'm fine, Darc," Jane sighed, but she took the shirt and used it to wipe away some of the blood.

"It worked!" Tony grinned. "I'll be sending you my dry cleaning bill."

"Mr. Stark," Steve's voice had a warning tone in it. Emily reached out and smacked his shin, unwilling to deal with any drama right now All she wanted to do was make sure that her friend was alright.

"Oh, feisty," Tony chuckled. "I-hey!" he protested when Pepper did the same to him.

"Go get the car," the redhead ordered.

"I'm fine, really," Jane sighed.

"Looks like you may need a few stitches," Coulson stated.

"I don't need stitches."

"Jane," Erik took a fatherly tone, "you'll have that looked at." It took some convincing, but Jane finally agreed to have the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor look at her when they got back to the base. Darcy and Pepper helped her into the car Tony had confiscated, and Dr. Selvig stayed behind to collect the data from the experiment.

Emily was still beaming when Carter dropped her and Steve off outside of Jane's lab. The agent had called first dibs on the shower, which was fine with Steve as he wanted to collect his things before going back to their RV. Once he'd gathered his clothes, Steve walked Emily back to her RV.

"Want something to drink?" Emily asked as she reached their destination.

"Sure," Steve replied, holding open the door for her. She smiled and bound up the steps, energized by what they'd just experienced. After she'd gotten a bottle of water for herself and tossed one to Steve, Em hopped onto the kitchenette counter took a long swallow of the drink. "That was something, wasn't it?" Steve asked. He propped his shield against Sharon's bed and leaned against the wall.

"Yeah," she nodded, the silly grin coming back. "I mean, I've seen pictures of galaxies in science books but…_wow_." He nodded and took a sip of the water.

"Sort of reminded me of when Schmidt disappeared off of the plane before I went down."

"We're not going there today," Emily said quickly. Steve ducked his head and grimaced.

"Sorry."

"Hey," Em sighed, reaching across the small space and putting her hand on his shoulder, close to his neck. "No sad thoughts today, okay? Not after what we just saw." Steve looked up and gave her a crooked smile.

"Okay." That damn smile caused Emily's heart to skip a beat. She unconsciously ran her tongue along her top lip before biting her lower. Steve watched, shifting slightly, as the pink color returned to her mouth as her teeth dragged along her lip. He'd tried to draw that mouth so many times, but it never came out right.

Emily slid a bit closer to the edge of the counter, allowing her to move her hand to the back of Steve's neck. Her fingers played with the short hairs there, feeling the grittiness of the sand on his sweat-slicked skin. She heard Steve exhale through his nose as he pushed off the wall, edging closer to her. Part of her wanted to yank him over to her, but Em knew that he needed to do this in his own time.

Steve put his right hand on her outstretched arm, the leather of his glove warm against her skin. He gave her an almost shy look as his fingers traced up her arm, and blushed as they traveled down her side. When his hand settled on her waist, Steve took a step forward. Emily forced herself not to move as his other hand reached up and cupped her cheek. Slowly, almost torturously, his thumb traced the curve of her lower lip; Emily couldn't help it when her lips parted, or when her tongue darted out to taste the bitterness left by the leather. Steve let out a low moan, his stomach now pressing against with Emily's knees. She felt his hips twitch slightly, and she parted her legs so that one was either side of him.

And then he forced her chin up and rested his forehead against hers. Emily's put her hand on his cheek and swept her thumb along his cheekbone, smiling softly when their noses bumped. Steve lowered his head slightly, his breath hot on her face. And then he pressed his lips to hers. It was soft, tentative, as if trying to justify the action to himself. Sweet, is how Em would describe it. But she didn't want sweet.

Her hands drifted from his cheek down to his chest, where her thumb stroked the outline of the star. She smiled against his mouth when his hand tangled in her hair as he pulled her closer. As her tongue traced his lip, she wrapped her fists around the metal buckles on his stomach. Steve moaned against her mouth, his grip on her waist tightening. "_Emily_," he panted against her lips, making goose bumps form on her skin.

Emily moaned when he gently tugged her hair and Steve's lips moved to her jaw. She pulled herself closer to him, her chest pressed against his, and wrapped her leg around his hip. When his hips rocked against her, she took a shuddering breath as her hands tried to find some small patch of exposed skin.

"Emily, Miss Le- oh." Sharon raised an eyebrow as Steve quickly disentangled himself from Emily's grasp. He kept his back to her, instead facing the bedroom, with one hand on the countertop.

"Hi," Emily laughed nervously, her hands shooting up to smooth her hair. Sharon looked at her, then at Steve's back, and then focused on Emily again. "What about Darcy?"

"She's looking for you. Something about plans for the night," the disapproval dripped from Sharon's words, and made Emily raise an eyebrow.

"Thank you. I'll make sure I meet up with her."

"You do that," the Brit nodded, her words clipped. "Captain."

"Agent Carter," Steve replied, his voice slightly husky. Thankfully, Sharon left, but not without throwing another look at Emily that spoke volumes. When the door shut, Em rolled her eyes and brought her hand to her lips, feeling the slight swollenness. Smiling, she hopped down from the counter and smoothed down her skirt.

"Next time," she said, turning towards him and smirking. "Your hands don't have to stay on my waist." But when she tried to duck under Steve's arm, he shifted away from her. "Steve?" He refused to look at her, but his face was bright red.

"I just…I need a minute." When he licked his lips, Em felt another stab of lust. Silently, she cursed Sharon for interrupting them. That hadn't been a problem for her since freshman year of college.

"Wh- _oh_." Unintentionally, her eyes shot to his groin. There was a small surge of satisfaction when she realized exactly the effect that she had on him. Then again, her body hadn't exactly kept the secret well. She saw his eyes flicker to her chest, where her bra was doing a horrible job of hiding her protruding buds. Her breath caught when he wet his lips again, and she squirmed slightly. "Shower," she breathed.

Steve's eyebrows shot up, "Emily-"

"Take a shower, Steve. I'm…I've gotta go see Darcy." She took a step towards him, pressing herself against his side, and stood on her toes to press chaste kiss on his lips. "Like I said, next time," she whispered in his ear, "be more handsy." Steve groaned, fighting back the urge to pulled her back against him and pick up where they'd left off.

"No next time," he shook his head. "Not until I'm fixed."

"We'll see," Emily smirked before patting his arm. "We'll see."

* * *

_That's all they really want  
Some fun  
When the working day is done  
Girls - they want to have fun  
Oh girls just want to have fun_

_Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper_

* * *

OOO

"Welcome to your pity party!" Darcy announced, throwing open the doors to the abandoned bar. The sun was just setting as they stood in the doorway.

"My what?" Jane asked sullenly. She had a strip of white gauze taped to her forehead, covering the four stitches she'd been forced to have.

"Your pity party, duh," Darcy rolled her eyes. "Come on, I've put – HEY!" The group of agents by the billiards table looked up and frowned. "Did you _not_ see the sign on the door?"

"What sign?" one of the men asked. Darcy flung back the door and pointed to the one she'd taped to it moments before. Em glanced at it and smirked. In bold letters, Darcy had written **CLOSED FOR PITY PARTY** in black marker.

"I've got things I need to do-" Jane started to protest, but was cut off by her research assistant.

"Thor, Captain America, and Iron Man's girlfriends want to have a drink in private. Now get the hell out." The four men grumbled before setting the pool sticks on the table and walking out, glaring slightly.

"I'm not actually Steve's girlfriend," Emily corrected.

"Psh, yeah," Darcy rolled her eyes.

"You do seem like a couple," Pepper agreed.

"Darc, I've gotta get ready for the second demonst-"

"DRINKS!" Darcy interjected. "Now, I was a bartender for a weekend, so I may be able to make you a drink."

"Do you think there's any wine?" Pepper asked.

"This place is stocked. After the whole Destroyer thing, S.H.I.E.L.D. made everyone leave. And I think the bar got a shipment pretty soon before then," Darcy shrugged. "So we probably have everything. But this is a _girl's night_, Pepper. No wine. Hard liquor only."

"I'll get a rum and Coke," Emily shrugged. Darcy clapped her hands and disappeared behind the bar. Once everyone was given a drink (Tequila Sunrise for Pepper, Jack and Coke for Jane, and Vodka-Cranberry for Darcy), they settled down at one of the tables. Somehow, Darcy had rigged up her iPod to play through the bar's speakers, so 'Soft Shock' by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs was playing.

"First meeting of League of Superhero Girlfriends is called to order," Darcy said solemnly, tapping her glass on the table. "Honorary member Darcy Lewis would like to bring attention to the fact that Thor's girlfriend is miserable."

"I'm fine, Darcy," Jane grumbled before taking a large gulp of her drink.

"Honorary Member Lewis calls bullshit on that statement and urges other Members to voice their concern."

"Why are you talking like that?" Pepper asked.

"Gotta get some use of out a Poli Sci degree," Darcy shrugged. "HM Lewis recognizes Member Potts and cedes the floor to her."

"Member Harthorn moves to strike the lingo from the bi-laws," Emily shrugged, trying to recall her days as a Poli Sci major.

"Seconded," Pepper said quickly.

"Passed," Darcy agreed, tapping her glass again. "So yeah, do the supportive friend thing."

"Nothing's wrong," Jane stated. She was starting to sound like a broken record.

"Considering there's not a hunky Norse God in your bed right now, yeah, there is."

"Honestly, I agree with Darcy," Pepper sighed. "You've got every reason to be upset, Jane. You thought you might get him back."

"Not to say that what happened today wasn't amazing," Emily added quickly, which made Pepper nod. "It's just another step towards getting Thor back."

"We didn't even get past Andromeda," disappointment started to seep into the astrophysicist's voice. "Not even past the first fucking spiral galaxy." Hot tears sprang to her eyes and gulped down the rest of her drink.

"There's always tomorrow," Emily said, reaching out to touch Jane's wrist. Darcy took the glass from her hand and refilled it, pouring a generous amount of Jack in.

"And even if it doesn't happen tomorrow, it's not the end of it," Pepper nodded. "You'll get him back."

"Hear, hear!" Darcy agreed. "He's crazy about you, Jane. He gave you his word that he'd come back, remember?"

"I just wish I knew what stopped him," a soft sob broke Jane's voice as she lowered her head to the table. Immediately, the three other women reached out to touch her, assuring her that only something huge could have kept him from coming back to her.

Outside, there was a bright flash of lightning, followed by a rumble of thunder that rattled the glasses behind the bar. "Told ya," Darcy grinned, patting Jane's hand. The astrophysicist gave her a watery smile.

OOO

"I've always wanted to do this," a slightly tipsy Emily laughed as a drunk Darcy pulled her towards the bar. "Never had the nerve to before."

"That's the beauty of an ah-bandonded bah," Darcy slurred, trying to mock the slight accent Emily had let slip a few minutes earlier. The two maneuvered a stool into place, and Em helped boost the drunk girl up before climbing onto the bar herself.

"Careful!" Pepper warned, nursing her fifth drink. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes slightly glossy. Jane, however, giggling drunk. Her head was lolled back against the chair, and she kept trying to explain a science joke (not that anyone was listening).

"SOO," Darcy said, grabbing Emily's hands and pulling her forward to bump hips. "Yooou said that they were tryin' to make moooore Captain America's, right?"

"Yuh," Em nodded, shimmying to the 80s music that was now playing.

"Uh…why didn't they just have Steve have lots and lots of babies?" Emily stopped dancing and felt her jaw drop. "Iz like, genetic, right? 'Cuz I'd totally volunteer."

Emily actually snorted as she roared with laughter. Tears poured down her face as she tried to gasp out a sentence. "Have you-have you met Steve? There's noooo way he'd do that."

"It was worth a shot," Darcy snickered. "Not 'hat I'm ready for babies. NOOO BABIES!"

"No babies," Emily agreed. "OH GOD, I LOVE THIS SONG!"

"ME TOO!" Darcy squealed.

"_Come home, in the morning light, my mother says when you gonna live your life right!" _ they drunkly sang. Even Pepper joined in, dancing on the floor while sipping her drink. Emily and Darcy were dancing more enthusiastically, arms raised above their heads and shaking their chests (Darcy had been voted biggest breasts, with Emily being the runner up).

"Hang on, hang on!" Darcy said when the next song came up. It was slower, and apparently that would not do for the research assistant. Emily tried to stop her from jumping straight down but Darcy was remarkably adept as the drunken leap down. The song that blasted over the speakers made Emily laugh as she hauled Darc back up.

OOO

"Sharon says that Emily's not back yet," Carter said. Steve looked up from his sketchbook to where the agent was lounging on the bed.

"It's nearly midnight."

"Dr. Foster, at least, should be sleeping if she's going to have a second go at this thing tomorrow." The two men looked at each other for a moment before standing. "There's a good chance she'll be angry with us for this," Carter said as he slipped on his shoes.

"We're going for Dr. Foster, not Emily," Steve said. Carter raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything as they exited the RV. It wasn't hard to track down the four women.

"Oh god," Carter chuckled as they neared enough to hear the music blasting. The two paused to read the sign on the door before pushing it open.

"_But you made me feel, yeah you made me feel shiny and new!_" Emily and Darcy sung, shimmying towards each other on the bar. Steve raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched as Emily buried her hands in her hair and shook her hips. "_Like a virgin, touched for the very first time!_" Steve blushed. "_Like a virgin when your heart beats next to mine!" _Em held her hands over her heart.

"Bravo!" Carter clapped, laughing loudly. "_That_ is the drunk Emily that I like."

"Not drunk yet," Emily chuckled as she continued to dance with Darcy. _"Been saving it all for you, cause only love can last!_" she skipped ahead in the song to catch up with lyrics.

Steve forced his eyes away from Emily and to Dr. Foster, who was laughing at the two dancing on the bar. "Dr. Foster," he said as he walked over to her. "I think it's time for you to call it a night." She tried to bat away the hand that he held out, but missed.

"I'm _fine_!" she grinned. "Ya know why?"

"Why?" Steve asked, playing along.

"'Cause of the LSG!"

"LSG?" he asked, looking over at Carter, who shrugged.

"LSG!" Pepper, Darcy, and Emily echoed, lifting their fists into the air.

"Definitely time to call it a night," Carter nodded. "You get those two, I've got these two." He motioned for Steve to get Em and Darcy off of the bar. Once the song was over, it didn't seem too difficult.

Emily wanted to get down by herself, but Steve only let her step onto the stool before he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her down. He pulled her close to him, and she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. Her body was flush with his when her feet hit the ground. They just looked at each other for a moment and Em bit her lip, trying to entice him to kiss her again. But it appeared that his self restraint was firmly back in place.

"Me next!" Darcy said, bouncing on her heels and waving her raised hand. "Maybe I won't have to be an HM in the LSG."

"Back off, bitch," Emily laughed. Steve raised an eyebrow, which made the women laugh again.

* * *

**Author's Note**: It's only just past midnight, so I'm not too late with this. I'd like to thank my beta, **blown-transistor**, for her help with this, and also dedicate it to her since she had a crappy day. She didn't get to read the Girls Night part before I posted it, so all mistakes are mine! There you go to everyone who was asking for one =]

Hope you enjoyed this. I'm proud of the little Emily/Steve scene since I've never written anything like that before. As for the scene with the worm hole...I hope it kind of goes with what you were thinking. And yes, there will be another demonstration! As for the songs, I kind of wanted the first one to be both for Steve and Emily, as well as Jane and Thor. I thought it was appropriate.

Thank you guys so much for reading, and please let me know what you think!


	32. Chapter ThirtyOne

Chapter Thirty-One

_Cool these engines_  
_Calm these jets_  
_I ask you how hot can it get_  
_And as you wipe off beads of sweat_  
_Slowly you say "I'm not there yet!"_

_Secret by Maroon 5_

* * *

"Seriously, it's like PSSSSHHHH, and done," Darcy said, waving her left arm. "Mine is like TTTSSSSS, and they hit the ground."

"Yeah, but you've gotta be close to them," Emily argued. The two were staggering, arms linked, towards Darcy and Jane's RV.

"Nu-uh! I tased Thor from pretty far back." Darcy stumbled as Emily stopped walking, making Darcy stumble slightly.

"You tasered Thor?"

"Yes," Darcy said smugly, "Yes I did." Em burst out laughing as the two started walking again.

"Ok, tasers might beat pepper spray."

Carter was walking with Dr. Foster, trying to keep the poor woman on her feet. Her sneakers were finding holes that were invisible to the eye, and it was taking all of his concentration. Behind that pair, Steve and Pepper strolled. When he'd offered her his arm, Pepper had smiled and taken it; unlike the other members of the LSG, she's moderated her drinking so she was only feeling slightly fuzzy around the edges.

"It's nice out tonight," Pepper said, looking up at the stars.

"It is," Steve agreed.

"I hope Tony's not still working. I don't feel like pulling him away from the lab." She glanced up at him when he made a non-committal sound and shook her head. "He admires you, you know."

"Ma'am?"

"Pepper," she corrected while gently swatting his arm. "Ma'am makes me sound old."

"Pepper," he corrected with a slight smile.

"I don't want you to have the wrong impression of Tony," Pepper continued. "He can be…difficult and eccentric, and sometimes extremely rude, but he's got a good heart underneath all of that."

"I'm sure he does, Ma-Pepper," he caught himself. She sighed at his conciliatory tone.

"You're a tough act to follow, Captain Rogers," stated Pepper, the small amount of liquor making her bold, "and Howard did nothing to make it easier for him." There was a slightly angry set in her eyebrows when she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry about that," Steve said after a moment. Her hand squeezed his bicep as she shook her head.

"It's not your fault. Maybe just… consider that when you're around Tony? I know he can be hard to handle," she chuckled at his exasperated huff, "but he's…"

"He's lucky to have someone like you to stand up for him," Steve supplied when she struggled for words. Pepper merely shook her head.

OOO

"You're going straight to bed," Steve chuckled as Emily wrapped her arm around his waist and fell in step with him. He draped his arm over her shoulders. His skin felt warm against hers.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Emily gave a sloppy salute before reaching up and threading the fingers of her free hand through his. "Stay the night?"

"I don't think that's the best idea," he sighed.

"I do. I thought of it," she grinned up at him. A laugh burst from his lips before he turned to kiss the top of her head; Em tilted her chin up, hoping that he might be so inclined to kiss her, but he didn't. Slightly frustrated, she bumped his leg with her hip.

"You need to sleep."

"I wasn't proposing anything else, but if you wanted to-"

"Emily," Steve said warningly.

"Kidding, kidding," she forced her voice to be light. He heard her mutter 'stick in the mud' under her breath, though.

"I am old-fashioned," he conceded; Em blushed, having forgotten his enhanced hearing. "And I won't apologize for it."

"I'm not complaining…much."

"'Much'?"

"I've already told you about the über protective thing." They stopped outside of the RV Emily now shared with Sharon, and Steve turned her so that he could look her in the eyes.

"I just don't want you to get hurt." Sighing, Em stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and held her to his chest.

"Thank you, but I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." He raised an eyebrow and swept his thumb across her cheek, where the bruise from Blonsky was now yellowing and beginning to disappear. Emily smirked, "I'll amend the statement: in situations not involving mutant super humans, I can defend myself."

Steve smiled and replaced his thumb with his lips, tenderly kissing the bruise, before whispering in her ear. "It seems like that leaves me a lot of stuff to protect you from." A shiver went down Emily's back as he placed another kiss just below her ear, and she fisted her hand in his shirt.

"You play dirty, Rogers." His laugh was loud in her ear as he pulled away.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Tease," she muttered as he opened the door for her. Em ducked under his arm, her foot catching on the first step and causing her to stumble.

"Mind the gap," Sharon smirked, sitting up on her bed.

"It's a doozie," Em replied, waving away Steve's inquiry as to if she was alright. Sharon chortled, and raised an eyebrow as Steve stepped inside.

"Agent Carter," he nodded.

"Captain Rogers," she replied. After a moment, she set her book aside and stood up, smoothing down her camisole top. She met Emily's glazed over eyes and said, "We're out of bottled water."

"I can get it for you," Steve offered.

"It's fine. I need some air anyways." With a nod to both of them, Sharon left, the door slamming loudly closed.

"Come on, Soldier," Em smirked, grabbing Steve's hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. "Aren't you going to tuck me in?" A smile tugged at the corner of Steve's mouth and he shook his head, but followed her.

Em was temped to push him down on the bed and have her way with him, but knew that Steve would never go along with what her drunken self wanted. He'd probably claim that her judgment was impaired (even though she wasn't nearly as drunk as she looked). Or that her reputation needed to be protected. And, with a sigh, Em realized that making such a move on him this early would probably serve to push Steve away even more.

But that didn't mean that she couldn't have a little PG-13 fun.

Once they were in the room, Emily turned and put their clasped hands behind her back, pulling Steve closer. "Emily," he warned, even as he fought back a smile.

"Steve," she mocked his tone.

"You should go to bed."

"Make me," she challenged. The corner of his mouth tipped up before he schooled his expression. He knew they were engaged in a battle of wills, and he was never one to lie down during a fight.

"You're a stubborn woman."

"Yes I am." Steve extracted his hand from Emily's and walked to the head of the bed, retrieving her nightclothes from under the pillow where she usually put them. With a smirk, he put them in her arms.

"Get dressed." For a moment, Emily just looked up at him before an idea came to her.

"Fine." She set the clothes on the foot of the bed and tugged at the hem of her button up, untucking it from the skirt. Her fingers closed on the top button and slipped it through buttonhole. Steve raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the door, as if telling her to go into the bathroom to change. She shook her head and undid the second button, the top of her cleavage now showing.

"Stop."

"You said to get changed."

"I said dressed."

"Part of that requires undressing." As her hands drifted down to undo the third button, the one right below her bust, Steve's hands shot out to trap them between his.

"Emily Rose," he growled.

"Steven Grant." His eyes bore into hers for a moment, the lust evident. She took a small step forward, just enough for his knuckles to brush her breasts. Even as he tried to keep a stern look on his face, Steve's tongue darted out to moisten his lips.

"Behave." There was a ring of authority in his voice, one that did funny things to Emily's stomach. His hands tightened around hers for a moment before he let them go and turned to face the wall.

Sighing, Emily's fingers quickly undid the buttons of her shirt. It fell open, and she put her hands on her hips, wondering how he would react if she stepped in front of him. He'd probably just turn the other way, she huffed. But still…

Steve jumped as the white material landed on his head. He quickly reached up and pulled Emily's shirt off, just as something hit his foot. A blush crept up his neck as he realized it was Emily's brassiere. "Emily." She felt a thrill of success at the groan. Her red skirt was soon tossed over his shoulder.

It took everything in him not to turn around, partly to yell at Emily, and partly to see her. Steve forced himself to stare at the wood grain, reciting the saints in his head. He'd barely started when he felt Emily wrap her arms around his waist, and her chest against his back. He gulped as Em rested her head between his shoulders.

"It's safe to look," she said before standing on her toes and kissing the back of his neck.

"For some reason, I don't believe you."

"Why don't you turn around and find out?"

"Emily."

"Steve," she purred, reaching down to take her clothes from his hand. Without looking, she tossed them to the other side of the room. "Monsieur Rogers?" Steve groaned.

"Dirty play, Harthorn."

"Moi? Non," her tone was playful. "Regardez-moi." When he didn't move, Emily sighed and took one of his hands, placing it on her hip. His fingers flexed around it, feeling the material over her skin. "Safe, like I told you." Steve hesitantly looked over his shoulder, and Emily moved into his line of sight.

Steve grabbed Emily and pinned her against the wall, his lips crashing onto hers. His hands gripped her hips, fingers slipping under the hem of her t-shirt and pressing into her skin. Emily grabbed his belt loops and pulled him against her as she bit Steve's lower lip, causing him to groan against her mouth. Her skin was on fire as his hands drifted, one settling on her waist and the other spanning her back. Steve pulled her against him, nearly lifting Em off of her feet.

"Steve," Emily gasped when he finally let her up for air. She shivered as his fingers traced her spine, pulling the front of her shirt up to expose her midriff. "So much fo-" He cut her off with a kiss before shifting his attention to the neck he'd wanted to kiss for ages.

"French," he said, his lips grazing her skin. Emily tilted her head, allowing him better access.

"Mon dieu," she gasped as her hands tugged at the hem of his shirt. "Eh… J'aime …j'aime quand," she took a shuddering breath as his teeth nipped her throat, "tu dis mon nom," Em said, pulling him up so that her breath ghosted over his lips.

"Emily," he groaned.

"Et quand tu m'embrasses." She deftly undid the buttons of his shirt as he kissed her again, his tongue tracing the curve of her lip. Em smiled against his lips when he tensed his stomach as her fingers traced the muscles there.

There was a squeaking noise, and the RV shifted. They both heard a thud, followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening.

Steve lifted his head and turned to look at the closed partition, before his eyes darted down to Emily. Her eyes were pressed shut, and her head was resting against the wall. "I hate roommates, I hate roommates, I hate roommates!" she muttered. He chuckled, dropping his forehead to rest against hers.

"It's probably for the best."

"No, it's not. When I spontaneously combust, it's going to be entirely your fault."

"My fault?" Steve asked, his hands slipping out from under her shirt.

"You can't keep winding a girl up like this and not doing anything about it. It's not nice."

"You started it," he said, the giving her a crooked smile.

"J'aime quand tu souris comme ça" He groaned.

"No more French."

"Mais c'est la-" Her lips curved into a smile as he kissed her to shut her up.

"No more French," he repeated.

"You just wait until we get home," he smiled at these words, "and I get my own place where we won't be interrupted." Emily put her hands on his face and kissed him again, "Sound like a plan?"

"It's a date," Steve grinned. "But now, it really is time for bed."

"You're pretty adamant about that, aren't you?" She shrieked as he nodded before bending slightly to wrap his arms around her legs. In a quick movement, Steve lifted her, held her so that their eyes were level. Em's steadied herself by placing her hands on his shoulders, and laughed. "So this is what the air is like up here."

"Nice, isn't it?" he chuckled before turning and walking to the bed. When he shifted her to one arm, Em's eyes widened; she knew she wasn't exactly a feather, but he acted like it. She gasped when he tilted her so that she fell against his other arm, before placing her on the bed. When Steve tried to move away, however, he found himself unable to; Emily had wrapped her hands around his open shirt and was pulling him back to her.

"Stay."

"Ok, Sweetheart." The moment the word slipped from his mouth, Steve blushed. But Emily beamed at him, using his shirt to pull herself up.

"Merci, mon coeur." Em kissed him, just a sweet peck, before laying back down and letting go of his shirt. Still a bit red around the ears, Steve walked over to the other side of the bed and toed off his shoes before shrugging off his button up. As soon as he'd laid down, Emily had moved over and rested her head on his chest, one hand fisted on his white t-shirt, and the other pressed against his side. "Goodnight," she said, tilting her head up.

"Goodnight," he replied, reaching over to tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers caught on the back of her earrings, and she smiled into his chest as he kissed her forehead.

OOO

Emily tried to fight her body as it woke up. She was incredibly comfortable (minus the slight pounding of her head), and somewhat sleep deprived, but the damn alcohol in her system never let her sleep very long. It was a battle she lost.

Steve was still sleeping, a contented smile playing on his lips. He just looked so…peaceful, Em though. And young. It was easy to forget that he was only twenty-five when he was awake. The way he carried himself and projected his authority just made him seem older. Smiling, Em carded her hand through Steve's hair. He stirred, his arm tightening around her shoulders.

With some maneuvering, Em moved so that she was half lying across Steve, her left leg between his. The material of his pants chafed her bare legs, but Em was undeterred, and moved her hand to support her weight as she hovered over him. Her hair fell from her shoulder, creating a curtain that tickled Steve's neck. He twitched slightly, making Emily bit her lip to stop from giggling. Slowly, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. His stubble scratched her lips. Another peck was placed on his jaw. Em tilted her head to repeat the action on his other cheek. Under her lips, she could feel Steve trying not to smile as his arm moved from her shoulders to her waist.

"Good morning," she said before kissing his lips.

"Morning," Steve replied, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes were still closed as he pulled her down against him. "I like waking up like this."

"It _is_ better than Reveille," she grinned. Em had never been fond of waking up to trumpets in the morning. They were both a bit surprised when they heard a door slam. "And this is why I only lived on campus one year. Close quarters," Em shook her head.

"Try the barracks," Steve chuckled. She rolled her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You signed up for it."

"I did," he nodded. She smiled, her eyes crinkling, before leaning down and kissing his neck.

"Pretty good decision, if you ask my humble opinion."

"Glad you think so," Steve sighed as she nuzzled his ear. She hummed a response, one of her hands making a lazy journey down his side. When it started to drift towards his groin, he quickly grabbed her wrist, turning beet red. She could actually feel the heat coming off of his skin. "Emily," he said sternly.

"What?" she asked.

"No." He rolled, and Em found herself smiling up at Steve as he hovered over her.

"Just offering my assistance," she shrugged. Steve's pressed his lips together tightly before ducking his head and burying his face in Em's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. This is embarrassing."

"Why?" Steve's head snapped up, and he gave her an incredulous look. "Ok, wrong way of putting it," Emily conceded. "What I'm trying to say is that having a…morning visitor is natural. And it's not like women don't know about it."

"Doesn't mean it's something I'm comfortable dealing with, with you around."

"Fine. Understandable," Em said, propping herself up and forcing Steve to sit up. He pulled his knees up, trying to hide himself. "And just so you know, last night," she nudged his shoulder, "very hot." Steve hung his head.

"I'm going to blame that on a temporary loss of sanity."

"Don't," she chuckled, "you won't hear me complaining. In fact, I'd like a repeat performance."

"Not until I'm better." He heard Emily huff, and then felt her head on his shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with you. But I'll respect your wishes and let you deal with this on your own." She stayed there for a moment before standing up.

"Where are you going?"

"Shower. Feel free to join." The look Steve gave her made Emily laugh. "Or not. But I think I'll check up on the girls before Jane's demonstration. If that even happens," Emily said, pressing her forefinger to her lower lip. "Hopefully she's not too hung over."

OOO

Carter Falsworth was a simple man, or so he liked to think. He enjoyed the simple things: a cup of hot coffee in the morning; finding a spare twenty quid in a pair of washed pants; waking up without having a bleeding wound, or if he had one, a beautiful woman to help him feel better. Don't mistake him for a playboy (although he played one rather convincingly, and thoroughly enjoyed the physical aspects of a relationship), Carter missed having a woman to talk with at night. He wanted someone to come home to after a particularly tough mission, who would give him a reason to continue with his job.

He frowned, checking the online newspapers as he did every morning. There was a picture of his ex-fiancée stumbling out of a London club with some minor visiting royal. Suppressing a sigh, Carter forced himself not to read the article, knowing that it would only bring up bad memories of finding her in bed with someone else after a drug and alcohol fueled night. She'd had problems before they'd started dating, but he had thought that he would be able to help her straighten out her life before starting one together.

Dr. Thompson had told Carter that he had a Savior Complex stemming from his relationship with his mother. And Carter couldn't deny it, but it didn't mean that he liked it. He knew that he dated mostly broken woman. And he was sure that came from trying to help his manic-depressive mother. That same mother who had gotten pregnant with him during a manic phase and wasn't able to remember who the father was. The same mother who, unable to take care of the child, gave him to her parents to take care on his tenth birthday. That was only his grandmother had come to their flat and found Carter sitting by the bathroom, trying to coax his mother out while begging her not to hurt herself. Three years later, he hadn't been there to stop her.

So yes, Carter knew that he sought out women with difficult pasts. Which could be why he had been drawn to Emily when he'd first taken over the Harthorn case. It had been a difficult year for the Falsworths, with his Uncle Brian being killed in the line of duty and Grandmother Peggy's Alzheimer's becoming more pronounced. Carter had taken a leave of absence to help his grandfather, during which there had been serious discussion of him leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. Lord James Montgomery Falsworth had tried to impress upon his grandson, now his only heir, the importance of family and ensuring that the Falsworth legacy continued.

Which is why, every morning, Carter Falsworth was in touch with the Falsworth Manor staff. Lord Falsworth's age was making it difficult for him to manage the running of the house and grounds, and the responsibility fell to Carter. There was always something that needed his attention, and this particular morning it was a fountain on the grounds that his grandmother had loved. There was apparently a crack that required repairing, and the estate foreman wanted to call a professional to restore it.

So you can understand why, when Sharon appeared and began to rant, Carter didn't fully pay attention. There was an e-mail from his grandfather's physician, informing him that the patient was being obstinate about taking his medication. Another from the household manager stating that a maid had quit and they now needed to find a replacement. S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent a reminder that his paperwork was due, and that he was to meet with Dr. Kingston for his annual physical.

"-Honestly, is it too much to ask?" Sharon threw up her hands.

"Mmhmm," Carter hummed, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

"I'm not asking for him to pine forever, but dear God, she waited for him for years! He could at least have the decency to wait before jumping into _her_ bed." The tone of voice caught the agent's attention, and he turned to watch his cousin pace. "I mean, that woman-"

"Who are you talking about?" Sharon stopped her pacing and spun on her heel to glare at him. In a flash, her hand closed around the bottle of water on the counter and hurls it at his head. Used to her antics, Carter easily caught it and smirked as he unscrewed the cap and took a sip.

"Captain Rogers and Dr. Harthorn," Sharon snarled, making Carter frown. "It's…it's disrespectfully to Aunt Peggy's memory."

"What?" Her hand groped the counter for something else to chuck at him, but came up empty.

"Were you listening at all?"

"Not really."

"Thank you for that," she glared. He waved off her words.

"What's your problem with Steve and Emily?"

"Forget it." When Carter pushed the subject, however, she began her rant again. "Aunt Peggy mourned for him for ages! And he forgets her like that!" she snapped her fingers. "And instead, he goes after some tart who-"

"Emily is not a tart."

"Really? She seems to leave a line of men behind her." Carter stood up quickly.

"She is _not_ a tart, and I won't stand for you calling her that."

"I'm sorry, I forgot your infatuation with her." He glared; it was true, he'd been attracted to Emily when he'd first gone to do surveillance on her. The Savior Complex had kicked in when he'd seen her go from nearly catatonic to sobbing over her dead fiancé. Sharon, who had watched the Harthorns after Uncle Brian's death and just after Dugan had retired, had made sure that he kept his distance. But even that didn't work. It had taken the threat of a formal reprimand from Fury coupled with being confined to a desk for the next year that had made Carter finally return to his 'normal' job. Over time, however, he'd Emily pull herself back together. And his feelings had shifted from attraction to protectiveness.

"Look," Carter said, "I know seeing Grandmother like that…when she was asking for Steve…was difficult for you." Sharon raised an eyebrow at the understatement; she had spent hours comforting Peggy over her lost love. "But she moved on. She loved Grandfather. And you can't begrudge Steve for moving on, because that's what she would have wanted."

"But so soon!" Sharon yelled. "How can he forget her so-"

"You didn't see him, Sharon," Carter snapped. "You weren't there when I told him what happened with her. He was devastated." The look on Steve's face when Carter had told him about Peggy had been…He wasn't even sure. Haunted, was the best way to describe it. After having lost so much, the agent had added another sorrow to Captain Rogers' pile. Once he'd been assured that Steve was alright, Carter had made a quick exit, allowing the man to grieve in private. "I won't let you begrudge him for finding some happiness."

Sharon looked like she wanted to say something but, at that moment, the door opened, and Steve stepped inside. He lifted a pair of Aviator sunglasses from his face, his eyes darting between the cousins. "Uh…should I come back later?"

"I was just leaving," Sharon stated, throwing a glare at both men. Steve raised an eyebrow but stepped aside to allow her to sweep out dramatically, slamming the door shut as she went.

"Everything okay?"

"Women," Carter muttered before sitting back down.

OOO

Emily pressed a hand to her temple as she walked back to the RV to get ready for the demonstration. The heat was already oppressive, and was not helping the nausea or headache. She groaned at the thought of changing into long sleeves and pants, but with the distinct possibility of another sandstorm, it was almost a necessity.

Damn rum and Darcy's heavy hand. And sneaky, delayed hang overs. After showering, Em had started to feel a bit sick, and had wanted to crawl back into bed with Steve, but he'd gotten up and was getting ready to leave. So, with a kiss and the rediscovered sunglasses she'd bought him in Oregon, Steve had gone back to the RV he shared with Carter to get ready for the day. Which had left Em to check on the other LSG members.

Darcy and Jane hadn't been in the best shape. Both were hung over, but had managed to get coffee and aspirin, and were on the road to recovery. Jane assured her that the demonstration would happen. So Em had gone to see Pepper, who had answered the door, even as Tony demanded she go back to bed. There had been a momentary surge of envy when she saw the clear bed head the redhead was sporting. Clearly, Em wasn't the only one that had cashed in on the LSG membership the night before.

Em wasn't entirely sure what drew her attention first. It could have been the yelling, or the roar, or even the ground shaking slightly. The screeching sound of metal reached her ears as her head whipped to the left, and a horrible sight met her eyes. A black RV had been ripped in half, and the parts were being tossed aside by a giant grey monster. Its eyes were shrunken, and muscles ripped through its body as it let out another roar. Bile rose in Em's throat as she saw its sternum appeared to be outside of its body, and the ribs protruded.

The ground was shaking as it charged forward, knocking RVs out of its way as it went. "ROGERS!" it growled in an unearthly voice. People were running around her, but Em was rooted to the ground. When the sound of gunshot rang out, she still couldn't move, but the creature turned, revealing the spines along its back. Sharon's words echoing in her ears.

"_Except for the appearance. __At least Banner doesn't grow spines."_

Blonsky had found them.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the delay, but I had some serious writer's block with this chapter. Wasn't quite sure if people were in character, if I was rushing everything, how much of the story should be put in...you get where I'm going with it. Plus, I've honestly had no time to write. So last night I stayed up late and finished this off. Hope you enjoyed it. As always, thanks to **blown-transistor** for looking it over.

So Pepper, rather than Em, talked to Steve about Tony. Kinda thought that was fitting, since she wouldn't want to see Tony hurt and would know about the whole situation. Hopefully you guys agree with that decision. And yes, Steve called Emily 'Sweetheart'. The whole bedroom scene may seem slightly out of character, but as blown-transistor told me, "Lust does funny things to your head".

A lot of you have been asking for more with Carter and Sharon, so there you go. I've always had that backstory for Carter but just didn't know how to go about putting it in. He's just as broken as Em and Steve, but knows how to hide it. And for those of you who don't like Sharon, I hope this at least gives some explanation for why she acts like she does. Remember, Peggy took her in after her parents died, so Sharon would have been like a daughter to her. And seeing Steve move on so quickly would be difficult.

French used in the chapter: "Moi? Non," her tone was playful. "Regardez-moi." - "Me? No." and "Look at me"

"Mon dieu," she gasped as her hands tugged at the hem of his shirt. "Eh… J'aime …j'aime quand," she took a shuddering breath as his teeth nipped her throat, "tu dis mon nom," - "Oh god" and "I love when you say my name"

"Et quand tu m'embrasses." - "And when you kiss me"

"J'aime quand tu souris comme ça" - "I love when you smile like that"

"Mais c'est la-" - "But it's the-"

"Merci, mon coeur" - "Thank you, my heart"


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

"_Wait until _we_ get home."_ He smiled. _"We"_. He, Steven Grant Rogers, had a Sweetheart, was one half of a 'we'. The memory of waking up to Emily kissing him, her hair tickling his neck, was enough to sustain him until they go back_ home_.

Steve had just finished lacing up his boots when he felt the RV jump. There was a screech of metal, and he turned to see Carter looking out of the window. "FUCK!" the agent snapped, quickly releasing the blinds and throwing himself to the floor.

"What is it?" Steve asked, watching him pull a black box from under the bench he'd been sitting on while working on his computer.

"Blonsky," Carter snapped, checking the mags of the two pistols he removed. The box slid across the floor to Steve, who promptly stooped to retrieve the third gun. "The rest is still in the-"

"ROGERS!" The two stopped their actions and looked at one another. Metal being wrenched apart again met their ears. After a moment, they leap to action. Steve grabbed his shield from where it was resting against the walls, not even bothering to put on his gloves. Carter slid on his shoes and threw the door open, leaping the short distance to the ground.

Agents were running an all directions. Gunfire rang out. And then Steve saw him.

He'd seen a lot of things while battling HYDRA, but this was… he couldn't think of anything to compare it to. Coulson had told him that Blonsky became a monster, but it couldn't have prepared him for the sight of the collossial grey creature barreling towards them. "ROGERS!" it screamed again. Carter darted past Steve and threw open the trunk of the SUV, shoving the two handguns into the waist of his pants and retrieving an assault rifle.

"Your friend made it," a tinny voice said, and Steve braced himself to attack as a red and gold…man? landed next to him. He looked up, wondering how he would have gotten there, and then the faceplate lifted and Tony Stark regarded him. "Relax, Cap, it's me."

"Any idea how we take him down?" Carter asked, shouldering the rifle and joining the two men. He slipped something into his ear, tapping it to ensure it was securely fit.

"Well, Banner was the only one to do it, and we don't exactly have him around," Tony said, flipping the faceplate down again. "JARVIS, find me a weakness."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. records indicate he is slower to heal than Dr. Banner, Sir." Steve raised an eyebrow, wondering where this new voice came from.

"So we wear him down," he said, regardless. "We've got the advantage with numbers."

"Uh, he's got the advantage with strength," Tony pointed out, even as he squared his shoulders and lifted off the ground to hover a foot or so above it.

"Haha," they heard Blonsky's rumbing laughter. "Harthorn." Steve felt his blood run cold, and he heard Carter's sharp intake of breath. "Where is Rogers?"

OOO

Emily ran, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. Agents bumped her shoulders as she scrambled out of their way, and she screamed as one flew throught the air over her head. The man hit the trailer, which rocked on its wheels, and slid down, a trail of red blood following his descent.

A sob forced itself out of her mouth as she leapt over a gouge in the road, trying to make it into one of the abandoned buildings. Em was nearly pitched off of her feet when the ground jumped beneath her feet, and she flailed her arms to keep her balance. And then the sunshine was gone.

"Haha. Harthorn." Emily wheeled around to face Blonsky, tears streaming down her face. His small eyes were focused on her, and a vicious grin was on his thin lips. "Where is Rogers?" She couldn't speak, even if she had wanted to answer him. Terror stole her voice. "WHERE," he took a step towards her. "IS," his hand extended towards her. "ROGERS?"

Em quickly stepped backwards, and gasped as the heel of her foot caught on one of the torn up pieces of pavement. Blonsky's fist closed above her as she fell to the ground, the force the downdraft ruffling her hair. Scrambing backwards, Em pushed herself to her feet and took off at a dead run, trying to ignore the laughter that rang out behind her.

Something heavy hit her from the right side, and Em hit the ground, just as Blonsky's hand grazed over her again. There was an empty 'THUD' as her head hit the pavement, and black spots danced across her vision. She could feel hot breath on her face as her eyes started to drift shut. "I've got you, Emmie." Her breath hitched, trying to fight against the darkness, the feeling of cotton filling her ears. Through fluttering eyes, she saw black hair, and a flash of light glinting off of metal over the man's shoulder. As he turned to look at her, Emily lost conciousness.

OOO

Steve ran flat out, not bothering to stop and apologize to those he hit. He needed to get to Emily. If something happened to her because of him…Steve forced the thought from his head. He could see Stark flying above him, and forced his legs to pump harder, muscles straining with the effort.

As he neared, Steve stopped, feet skidding on the loose dirt and pavement. The creature that was Blonsky was bent over, attention drawn to something at his feet. Above, Stark blasted him, making him roar and swipe at him. Setting his feet, Steve swung his shield back, putting as much strength as he could behind the throw. The shield flew from his hand and struck Blonsky's head, forcing him to stumble. It rickachayed and flew back to him.

A man pulled himself up, and Steve saw Emily in his arms. Her head was thrown back, and her eyes were shut. His gut clenched when he saw the blood darkening her hair. "HEY!" he yelled, trying to draw Blonsky's attention away from the man helping Emily. "You wanted me, I'm right here!"

"Rogers," Blonsky chuckled, turning his back on Stark. "Let's see what you've got." He lowered his shoulder and was about to charge when a pulsar blast struck his face. Stark hovered in front of his face, just out of reach.

"So I see that Super Soldier Serum doesn't age well. Guess someone should have warned you of that before taking it."

"Stark," Blonsky snarled, lunging forward and trying to knock him out of the air.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd be mad seeing that every morning in the mirror too," Tony quipped dodging the hand and climbing a bit higher. Frustrated, Blonsky stepped forward and roared. Steve raised his shield against the noise; he actually slid back a few inches from the exhilation.

Seeing his opening, Tony aimed his repulsor beams at Blonsky's mouth and fired both. They struck the back of his throat, and he stumbled backwards, falling onto a building and causing the wall to collapse under his weight.

Steve raised his pistol and took aim, anger and adrenaline pumping through his veins. With a steadying breath, his finger closed around the trigger, sliding it backwards. The recoil shot through his wrist, but he forced his arm to be steady as he shot again, this time the bullet finding its mark.

Blonsky's hand shot to his eye as he roared in pain.

"Nice shot!" Carter said as he placed the barrel of the assault rifle against his shoulder. Once he'd set his feet, the agent pulled the trigger, bullets peppering Blonsky's skin.

"Won't work against him," Tony said, hovering to the right of Carter. "We can only wear him down."

"We've back up getting in the air now," Carter shouted, pausing in his shooting. "Where's Emily?"

"She's…" Steve turned to the direction the agent had disappeared with Emily.

"He's got her to safety," Tony supplied, turning to look in the same direction. His momentary distraction was costly, however, when a table flew through the air knocked him to the ground.

"STARK!" Steve yelled. Carter had to duck as a bricks were pelted at him. There was another growl as Blonsky pushed himself to his feet, blood trickling from his eye. When he picked another handful of rubble, Steve pulled Carter behind him and lifted the shield in front of them both.

Quinjets appeared overhead. "BLONSKY," Sharon's voice ordered. "STAND DOWN."

"Agent Carter?" Steve asked, looking up at planes unlike anything he'd ever seen.

"Did I forget to mention she's a pilot?" The smile on Carter's face disappeared, however, when Blonsky leapt up to bat at one of the jets. The plane banked to the right, and Steve ran towards Tony to pull him out of the way. Once the course was corrected, the pilot began to fire on Blonsky.

"Guh," Tony grunted as Steve pulled him backwards under his arms. "What the hell?"

"Can you get up?" He nodded and Steve hauled him to his feet. "We need something big to distract him."

"I've got something. Just need a minute to get it ready."

"I can get you that minute," Steve said, glancing into the illuminated eyes of his mask.

"Do it, Cap." Steve took a deep breath and gave him a wry smile.

OOO

Flashes of light seared her eyes. Bursts of noise that pressed against her ears. Something was rocking her. It was too much.

And then it stopped. Emily's head fell forward against her chest as she was set on the ground.

Green. Shouting. A probing touch on her head. And then darkness again.

OOO

It was a stupid plan, but a necessary one. Carter called off the jets via a comm in his ear, and nodded to Steve. While the jets pulling up distracted Blonsky, Steve took his shot.

He ran full speed at Blonsky. At the last minute, Steve slid, trying to mimick Pee Wee Reese or Cookie Lavagetto's moves on the Dodger's baseball diamond. The sun glinted off of his shield, drawing Blonsky's attention, but it was too late. Steve scrambled to his feet, drew back his arm, and hammered the shield into the back of Blonsky's right knee. He went down, allowing Steve to scramble up his back, using the spinal protrusions as handgrips and foot purchases.

It's just like a tank, he told himself. Except this tank was twisting to pull him off. Steve fended off the swipes with his shield, adjusting his grasp on the spines when he got the chance. When he reached Blonsky's neck, he had to sacrifice his hold for more force behind his blow.

Steve lifted the shield and drove it down with all of his might. He felt a savage pleasure in the pained bellow Blonsky emitted; revenge for Emily, he told himself. The hand that reached up to grasp him was hit away, fingers deflecting off of the vibranium. With another mighty effort, Steve brought the shield down again, this time on the back of his head.

Blonsky twisted as he roared, causing Steve to lose his balance. There was a heartstopping moment just as he tumbled off of his shoulders, and then he was falling. Somehow, the creatures' reflexes were astonishingly fast. Rather than falling straight down, Steve found himself batted backwards, and his body collided with the building Blonsky had nearly collapsed.

The air was knocked from his lungs, and Steve panicked, trying to draw in oxygen. He forced himself to roll into a crouch, bringing his right knee up to his chest. Carter was screaming at him to move as Blonsky turned, a satisfied grin slashed across his mouth.

"It's over, Rogers," Blonsky chuckled, raising his foot. Steve looked up, squinting slightly, still unable to breathe. _Emily_. Fingers scrambled for the shield. He couldn't do this to her, not again. Who could stop Blonsky, who would make sure she was safe? The foot was closer. He was going to be crushed.

Blonsky reeled backwards, falling off balance. Carter scrambled out of his way; he narrowly avoided being pinned by somersaulting over a pile of rubble. Tony hovered above, red lasers trained on Blonsky's writhing form. He bellowed in pain, the noise becoming nearly deafening as the quinjets maneuvered back into position and opened fire again.

Oxygen flooded Steve's lungs, finally, and he leapt to his feet. He drew in a full breath, then another, before hurrying to Carter's side. The agent was looking a bit dazed, a nasty gash now bleeding on his head. "Go!" Steve ordered. "Get Emily." Carter shook himself, and then took Steve's offered hand. He hauled him to his feet and pointed in the direction Emily had been carried.

Blonsky was roaring with pain, but seemed unable to get up. "Give up?" Tony demanded. A bellow was the only response. The smell of charred flesh made Steve's stomach turn. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents flooded the area, creating a circle surrounding the now defeated monster.

Satisfied, Tony turned off the beam, and two small metal tubes were shot out from his gauntlets. "I think you guys can handle it from here." And with that, Iron Man flew off.

Captain America followed his lead.

OOO

Steve clasped Emily's hand between his, eyes trained on her face. He pressed his lips to her fingertips, willing her to wake up. Behind him, Carter paced, his foot falls interrupting the near silence. They were waiting for a car to take them to the hospital.

"Damn it!" Carter snapped. "What in God's name is taking so long?!" Steve didn't answer; his grip on Emily's hand tightened, and he bowed his head. It shot up, however, when heard her start to gag. In a flash, Carter was beside him, helping roll Emily to her side. When it finally stopped, they laid her back down as her eyes fluttered open, glossy and unfocused.

"Emily?" Steve asked, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. She moaned, eyes slowly drifting to his face.

"Garrett?" Something in his chest fractured, and Steve looked up to see Carter frowning.

"No, it's Steve, Sweetheart."

"I saw him," Emily slurred.

"Emily," Carter said, his voice level and hands on either side of her neck, trying to keep her from moving too much. "Do you know what year it is?" She frowned and closed her eyes, which made him tap her cheek gently until she opened them again. "No sleeping now, darling. What year is it?"

"C'est…" she fought against her fluttering eyes. "20…2012." Steve had to look to Carter to see if it was the right answer, as Em speaking in French.

"Good girl. Now, where are we?"

"B.F.E." Carter chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. Seeing Steve's confused look, he clarified.

"It stands for 'Bum Fuck Egypt'. Be more specific, love."

" 'ew Mexico." Carter smoothed back her hair, fingers tangling in the dried blood.

"Right. Now, what hurts?" Emily reached up to touch her temple, hand shaking slightly. "Anything else?" She twitched her left wrist, frowning at the spasm of pain. "What about your neck?"

"Uh uh." Em narrowed her eyes, hand reaching up to touch his face. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," Carter smiled. "Just a few scratches." The gash on the side of his head had finally stopped bleeding, but pieces of brick had struck his face. Satisfied that she wasn't in immediate danger, Carter removed his hands, again bending to kiss her forehead.

"Steve?" Emily asked.

"Right here, Honey," Steve said, squeezing her hand. Her head rolled towards him and her frown deepened. When she tried to swing her legs off of the table, both men moved to stop her. "Stay still, Emily."

"I'm fine," she replied, her tone still dreamy. "You two need doctors."

"We're not the ones who were unconscious," Carter countered.

"Please," Em pleaded, trying to sit up again. Sighing, the two looked at each other before they each slid an arm under her shoulders and helped her up. She twisted so that she was facing Steve. His free hand went to her cheek, and he leaned forward so that his forehead rested against hers. Emily leaned against his hand, eyes closing as his breath washed over her face.

"I'll go check on that car," Carter said, quickly making his exit. Steve grunted a response. They were quiet for a long moment before he pulled away. Emily let out a heavy sigh, forcing her eyes open.

"Where's Garrett?"

"Emily, he's…" Steve paused. "It's not possible."

"I saw him," she said, her voice taking on a firmer tone.

"Sweetheart, that's not possible."

"I did!" Emily asserted, tears springing to her eyes. "He got me out of there." Steve frowned and shook his head. His thumb brushed away a tear that trickled down the curve of her nose.

"You hit your head." Emily let out a soft sob, forefinger tracing her lower lip. "It's not possible for him to have been there."

"But he was!" The look he gave her cause Emily to pause. After drawing in a shuddering breath, she shook her head, realizing that he was right. It wasn't possible for Garrett to have saved her. "It felt so real." Steve wrapped his arms around Em and pulled her against him. Her head nuzzled into his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "for everything." One of Steve's hands buried itself in her hair, and he fought back a wince when her arms tightened around a bruise on his back. "It's all my fault." She shook her head, fighting the sobs that threatened to escape.

"Not," she choked.

"I'm the one that put you in Blonsky's path." His grip on her tightened as he steeled himself for what he needed to do. "I can't do that again." Emily nodded. "With anyone."

Emily pulled away, frowning at his tone. His blue eyes were sad but determined as he kissed her temple. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying…" Steve cleared his throat while loosening his hold on her. "I'm saying that this is too dangerous for you. Being near me isn't good."

"Are you breaking up with me?" Emily demanded. As the words slurred slightly, Steve felt his resolve strengthening. She was hurt. And it was his fault.

"I'm trying to do what's right by you."

"So you're ending this? Whatever we are?" Steve gulped and nodded, feeling her tense in his arms.

"I'm sorry. I just, I can't put you in the line of fire anymore. Not when I can't make sure you don't get hurt."

"Oh, 'It's not you, it's me'. Like I haven't heard that one before," Emily snapped, tears welling in her eyes again. "At least some things haven't changed from the 40's, right?"

"Emily, I'm just trying to-"

"Get away with using a horrible excuse?" She pressed the palms of her hands to her temples as her head gave a nasty throb. Her throat burned as she swallowed back bile. "If you don't want to be with me, then just say it, damn it!"

"I want to be!" Steve protested. "God, I want you so much it hurts sometimes, but I _can't_. Why don't you understand?"

"Because it's bullshit," she spat, sliding off of the table. She swayed on her feet for a moment, pushing away Steve's stabilizing hands, and shoving him. He took a small step backwards, frowning as she hissed in pain and clutched her left wrist to her chest. "You're a fucking coward, Rogers," Em gasped, "Simple as that. You're afraid to let go and let yourself be happy."

"Emi-"

"No!" she propped herself against the table as her knees started to shake. "Don't you 'Emily' me like I'm the one being unreasonable. _You're_ the unreasonable one. And frankly," she took a shaky breath, "I'm getting sick of your emotional whiplash."

"Sweeth-"

"You don't get to call me that anymore, not if you're ending it." Steve swallowed against the lump in his throat. When he reached out to wipe at the tears zigzagging down her cheeks, Emily turned away from him, quickly brushing them away herself. She took a shuddering breath. "Move."

"We should-"

"Move. Get out of the way."

"Emily-" He stumbled backwards as she threw her weight behind the shove. Her teeth were gritted against the pain in her wrist, and she wobbled slightly as she stormed out. "Hey!" Steve said, grabbing at her arm.

SMACK!

Emily's palm tingled as Steve's head jerked to the side. "Don't touch me." Steve was more stunned than hurt as he let her go.

"Emily? What happened?" Carter asked as she brushed past him, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. She was coming apart.

"We've got this," Darcy stated, wrapping an arm around Emily. When she tried to shake it off, the brunette tightened her grasp. Pepper slid in on her other side and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I'll get the van," Jane said.

"Emily?" Carter's voice was worried, but she couldn't answer. She needed to focus on holding herself together. The cracks had to be visible now.

Damn Steve Rogers. Damn Garrett O'Connell.

They both left her in the end.

She was vaguely aware of being set in the car, and a seatbelt pulled across her chest. But it was the hand on her shoulder that broke through.

Emily bent forward and buried her face in her hands, ugly sobs forcing themselves from her mouth as she gasped for breath.

She didn't let people take care of her.

Hadn't, for a long time.

Because they always left her in the end.

Always.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Oh god, guys, I am so sorry! I didn't mean for it to go this long between update, but this semester is kicking my ass. Work is crazy with one girl out for a family emergency, I'm taking 12 hours of grad classes, and helping my roommate out since her boyfriend just deployed for Afghanistan. Not to mention I've been lining stuff up for an internship in London and trying to wrap up a paper I'm co-writing with a professor. So there is my excuses. Please accept them?

As always, thank you to **blown-transistor** for her help, and not getting too mad when I would shoot her ideas and not have scenes written to back them up. AND a huge thank you to you guys! 500 reviews! I'm flabbergasted. I love all of you =]

Ok, explanation time. I did a lot of research about Blonsky's weaknesses, and it doesn't seem like he has many. Hulk usually brings him down by wearing him out. Probably should have chosen an easier villain for Steve and Tony to fight, but in the original planning, Thor made it back to help out. But I really liked how Joss did his appearance in the movie, so I'll be respecting that. The laser Tony uses against Blonsky is the one he uses against the Drones in Iron Man 2, the 'one off' one.

And please don't hate me for splitting Em and Steve up. Steve is noble, almost to a fault, and I've always seen him putting the safety of the one he loves over his own happiness. As for Emily's reaction, take into consideration that she thought that her dead fiancé saved her.

I will try to make sure that I don't go this long between updates again. It helps that the next 2 weeks, my university's football team has away games, so I have my weekends. Again, my apologies! And please let me know what you think =]


	34. Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

_And so it is_  
_Just like you said it would be_  
_Life goes easy on me_  
_Most of the time_  
_And so it is_  
_The shorter story_  
_No love, no glory_  
_No hero in her sky_

_I can't take my eyes off of you_  
_I can't take my eyes off you_  
_I can't take my eyes off of you_  
_I can't take my eyes off you_  
_I can't take my eyes off you_  
_I can't take my eyes..._

_The Blower's Daughter by Scala & Kolacny Brothers (Damien Rice cover)_

* * *

Steve awoke with a grunt, and was temporarily confused as to why he was lying on the floor with his legs tangled in the blankets. His shoulders throbbed from the contact with the floor, and he frowned, pressing his eyes closed as his fist lashed out and connected with the metal leg of his desk. It groaned upon impact and tilted forward, causing charcoal pencils to rain down on Steve's head.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath while moving to crouch next to the desk. One hand wrapped around the dented metal, while the other rested on the drawers, and he wrenched it back into place, ignoring the screech of protest. It was unstable, but would hold. Another minute was spent gathering up the scattered pencils, which were unceremoniously tossed into the top drawer. The blankets were thrown back over the bed before he moved to the bathroom.

Steve tried to avoid looking in the mirror but failed. His face was pale, making the dark rings under his eyes stand out more. A thin sheen of sweat was watched away with the first handful of water, but the collar of his shirt was damp. He dragged it over his head and tossed it over the shower curtain rod. He took a moment to examine himself, looking for any sign of injury from the fight with Blonsky.

All of the bruises had disappeared, as had the cuts. A week later, and he was in tiptop shape.

Minus the dull ache in his gut. But that had nothing to do with physical damage.

And everything to do with an angry woman who was sleeping right down the hall and refused to acknowledge his very existence.

They'd left New Mexico the day of the attack. S.H.I.E.L.D. had called off Dr. Foster's second demonstration in light of the events, and started to move agents back to their assigned bases. After being discharged from the hospital with a sprained wrist and minor concussion (Carter had told him), Emily had been on one of the first Quinjets back to New York. Steve, however, had stayed to help control Blonsky before he was moved to a secure facility S.H.I.E.L.D. apparently had ready.

He'd expected her to be upset and angry, like he'd seen in New Mexico. But he hadn't expected this. Emily didn't speak to him, wouldn't even look at him if they passed each other in the hall. She would look down at whatever she was holding or at the floor, making sure that she stayed as far away from him as possible. It was a defense, Carter told him. Emily wanted him to think she was irate instead of showing how hurt she actually was.

After splashing another handful of water on his face, Steve patted his face dry, the cotton of the hand towel catching on his stubble. Once he'd retrieved the shirt, he stepped back into the bedroom and walked towards his closet, tossing the shirt into the laundry basket and pulling a pair of slacks from the hanger. When the door didn't slide shut easily, he cursed again and kicked the cardboard box blocking the track further into the closet. One of these days, he told himself, he'd finish unpacking his things.

Steve dressed quickly, needing to get some fresh air. He checked his wallet, making sure that the S.H.I.E.L.D. ID card was in its slot, before grabbing his keys and leaving. Sure, it wasn't the best idea to go walking around the city at night, but it wasn't like he was going to get into any trouble he couldn't handle. Hell, Coulson had even called off the agents who tailed him.

His footsteps faltered as he walked past Emily's door. A glance at his watch told him it was only 11:00. She would be awake, he knew. Steve had just raised his fist to knock on her door when he thought better. Carter had told him to let Emily have some time to herself. And, though Carter had infinite more experience with women, part of him wanted to disregard the advice. Steve missed seeing her.

Steeling himself, Steve rapped against the door. There was silence. After a moment, he did it again.

"Dr. Harthorn isn't there," a woman said, stepping out of the room beside Emily's. Steve looked over at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Haven't seen her for a few days, to be honest," she shrugged, twirling the keys in her hand. "Might want to check with Agent Falsworth."

"Thanks," Steve said, his shoulders slumping. It was probably for the best.

"No problem, Captain. Great work in New Mexico, by the way."

"Thanks you," Steve nodded. When he turned to walk away, she caught up with him.

"We probably would have had a shit ton more casualties if you and Stark hadn't taken Blonsky out." Unsure of how to respond to that, Steve made an uncommitted noise. "It was some pretty freaky stuff out there."

"Yeah," he jerked a nod.

"You've seen more, though. I know. Probably doesn't even rank up there for you," she grinned. "I read your file, Captain. It's impressive as hell."

"Just doing what needed to be done." The woman shook her blonde head.

"I'm going to give you a word of advice, if you don't mind." He quirked an eyebrow. "Chocolate and roses. And something personal."

"I'm sorry?"

"Dr. Harthorn," she shrugged, and then gave him a shy smile. "It's kind of been the office gossip, your fight. If you want her back, get her chocolate, roses and something personal. And grovel. Women love it when men grovel," the agent winked.

"I'll take it under advisement," Steve replied, his cheeks getting slightly pink. Emily wouldn't be happy that they were the subject of 'office gossip'.

"You do that," the woman said. With a wink, she strode down a corridor that branched off the main one. "Night, Captain!"

"Goodnight." Shaking his head, Steve kept walking, one hand shooting up to rub the back of his neck as he rolled his shoulders, trying to get the tension out. Without meaning to, his feet carried him towards the one place he knew Emily would be, if not in bed.

There was no light peeking out from under the door of the conference room, but he could hear music. His hand rested on the doorknob for a long moment before, with a steeling breath, Steve twisted it. The door opened a fraction, and he waited to see if Emily would say anything. When she didn't, he nudged it open a bit more and peaked in. A sad smile crossed his lips when he saw why she wasn't yelling at him to leave.

Emily was lying on her side on the conference table, illuminated by her computer screen. One of her knees was drawn up to her chest and an arm acting as a pillow, fast asleep. Her glasses were askew, and a few strands of hair curled on her cheek. Spread out around her was stacks of papers, empty coffee cups, a shopping catalogue, a notebook, what looked like one of Erskine's journals, and her phone. When the light changed from green to white, Steve saw the dark bruises under her eyes and frowned; apparently he wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

Shaking his head slightly, Steve reached out and brushed the hair from her face, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. Yes, he had done the right thing in ending it, but that didn't mean he felt less for her. Emily twitched, a 'v' appearing between her eyebrows, and she let out a soft groan. He quickly withdrew his hand, wondering if he should leave. But when her whole body tensed, and Em moaned 'No', he decided against it.

"Emily," Steve said quietly, leaning toward her. "Wake up. Honey, it's just a dream." She jerked, her braced hand lashing out and knocking over a half filled cup of coffee. He ignored it. "Emily?"

Her eyes flew open and she shrieked, scrambling away from him. But not before landing a blow to his nose. Steve's hand shot up to touch his face, but he quickly changed his action when Em got dangerously close to the edge of the table.

"Steve?" Emily said, looking from the hand clasped around her forearm, the other on her knee, to his face. A slight trickle of blood was coming from his nose, but he ignored it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said bashfully. "But you were having a nightmare."

"Shit," she muttered. "SHIT! _MERDE!_ Fuck! God damn it." Em wrenched her arm out of his grasp and shed her sweatshirt, making her sleep mussed hair (which had previously been pulled into a neat ponytail) even worse. She quickly picked up the computer and papers, coffee dripping off of the now soaked documents. Once he'd realized what she was doing, Steve helped to clean up the spilled drink. In the absence of napkins, Em used her sweater as a makeshift towel.

A smile tugged at the corner of Steve's mouth as he held a dripping paper over the table, shaking it slightly to get more of the coffee off. The woman he loved had the mouth of a sailor sometimes. When he realized what he was holding, however, all traces of a smile disappeared. "You're moving?" he asked. Emily's head snapped up as she looked from the paper in his hand to him.

"Uh…" she made a grab for the page, but Steve stepped out of her reach.

"To Brooklyn?"

"It's the only place I can really afford. Still, it's ridiculously expensive. I was renting a house for what I'm paying for that apartment." Emily knew she was babbling, but Steve was looking at her like she's punched him in the gut. Again, she reached for the first page of her lease and this time he let her take it.

"When?" She got off of the table and busied herself gathering up the pages, now trying to avoid his probing gaze.

"Saturday."

"_This_ Saturday?" Em nodded, examining her 'To Do' list and deeming it unsalvageable. After taking a picture of it with her phone, she dumped it in the trash. "Why?" The question actually caused her to stop cleaning.

"_Why?_" she echoed, disbelief obvious in her tone. "Because I can't fucking stay in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s basement for the rest of my life. I don't even want to be here now, not after everything I found out. I need space. And I need to be somewhere they can't spy on me." Angrily, she threw out a section of the next notebook she was working on for him. "I need normal."

"I thought you said normal was 'overrated'."

"Was there something you wanted?" Emily demanded. A small part of her was glad that his nose was bleeding, and that she was the cause. "Because if not, I'd like to get back to work."

"You should get some sleep." Her eyes narrowed.

"Get out, Steve. And take that with you." He turned to look at the box she pointed to. Three binders were in it, with a white envelope sitting on them. When Emily turned her back on him, Steve ripped open the envelope and read the typed sheet of paper.

_Captain Rogers,_

_Please review these and send me any questions you have._

_Dr. Harthorn, PhD History_

"Since when am I 'Captain Rogers' and you 'Dr. Harthorn'?"

"Since we met. I just think it'd be more appropriate, given our current situation, if we were to address each other by our formal titles. Now, if you please-"

"Are you really that mad at me?"

"Would you please leave?" Emily asked. "I just…" She took a deep breath, trying to keep the pleading from her voice and failing miserably. "Please go away." Steve looked down at the note and then at Emily's back. She was hunched over the table, hands resting on the table.

Knowing it wasn't the best idea, Steve walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She tried to push him away, but he held her against his chest and pressed a kiss into her hair. "Get some sleep," he said before releasing her. Then, with the box, he left.

Emily turned and threw a fistful of wadded, damp paper against the door.

OOO

"I'm glad you came," Dr. Thompson said, pressing his fingertips together and leaning back into his wing-backed chair. They had been sitting in near silence for the last ten minutes.

"Agent Coulson told me it was mandatory as part of my debriefing," Emily shrugged, balancing her can of Monster on her knee.

"He was right. But I would like you to feel free to speak about anything, even if it doesn't pertain to your trip with Captain Rogers." He watched as she pressed her lips together at the mention of Steve and frowned slightly.

"I don't know what you want to hear."

"Shall we start with your meeting with Emil Blonsky in Arlington National Cemetery?" Thompson reached back onto his desk and retrieved his glasses and a folder containing the report she'd written and turned in earlier in the week.

"What about it?" Em asked, tracing her finger around the rim of the can.

"This says that you were injured." She shrugged. Emily really didn't feel like talking at all. Caffeine wasn't doing much for her at this point, but she was afraid to sleep. "Not severely, though. Mostly bruises," Thompson continued to read. She pressed her braced wrist against her leg, making the Velcro reattach. "Anything to say, Dr. Harthorn?"

"Nope."

"As I'm sure you've been told before, this process only works if you participate."

"I was also told that even the act of coming is therapeutic."

"Ah, but this isn't therapy as much as a debriefing." Emily smirked, which made Thompson sigh. He placed the folder in his lap and peered over his glasses at her. "Shall we talk about how you're once again drinking that vile energy drink?"

"Is that you trying to get me to talk about not sleeping?"

"I can tell you aren't, and I've taken the liberty of having Dr. Kingston prescribe you this." He stood up and walked around his desk, and retrieved a small pill bottle. "There's only one tablet, but he has assured me that if you require more, he'd be more than happy to help." He tossed her the bottle, and she caught it easily.

"Ambien?"

"A night's sleep would do you good." Em tilted the bottle, causing the pill to rattle around it. "Now, why don't we take a lunch break and come back in an hour? Maybe a full stomach will loosen your lips."

"You never know." She stood and slipped the pill into her pocket.

OOO

"Really?" Emily sighed when she opened the door to Thompson's office again.

"Dr. Harthorn, if you would sit, we can begin." Her brown eyes darted from Thompson to Steve.

"I thought this was a private session." It took everything in her to ignore the probing look Steve was giving her.

"It is." The psychologist chuckled at her raised eyebrow. "Sometimes the agents find it easier to talk about things when their partners are present."

"I'm not an agent, and _he_ is not my partner."

"Em-" Steve cleared his throat when Emily shot him a glare. "Emily," he wouldn't back down and call her 'Dr. Harthorn'. She could be angry if she wanted. "If it stops you from having nightmares, it might be worth it."

"Nightmares?" Thompson sat up a bit more. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"No. I'm not having nightmares."

"This discussion would be easier if you were sitting," the psychologist motioned to the couch again. Huffing, Emily strode over and sat as far from Steve as possible. "Now that we're all settled, I would like to discuss a conversation you two had while in New Mexico. One that concerned future plans." When his words drew a blank look from both Steve and Emily, he suppressed a sigh. "I believe you discussed marriage-"

"No we didn't," Steve said quickly, shooting a sideways look at Emily. He was, after all, the one that had mentioned marriage that night. Not that he'd been proposing.

"Absolutely not. And what is this, your attempt at couple's therapy?" she blushed while trying to maintain her steely gaze.

"More so a partnership assessment," Thompson said. At the disbelieving look, he sighed. "While you were travelling, you both became privy to information S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't intended you to know at this time. Captain Rogers has been meeting with Agent Coulson to discuss these-"

"You have?" Emily demanded.

"Yes," Steve nodded.

"Why didn't I know about that?"

"That would require you actually talking to me," he replied. Emily's eyebrow twitched and she bit her lower lip to keep a stream of curses from coming out. Sure, he liked when she spoke French, but he probably won't appreciate some of the choice French words she had for him at that moment.

"My mother taught me that if you've got nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all," she said after taking a deep breath. "It's an old adage, probably around even when you were a kid."

"And you wonder why this is necessary," Thompson sighed. "Need we regress to playground taunts?" Slightly abashed, Emily settled back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest. When crossing her legs, she accidently (honestly) kicked him and muttered a quick apology.

An hour later, things were not at all going the way Thompson had hoped.

"YOU KNEW?!" Emily demanded after he'd inadvertently revealed that he had known about the surveillance her family had been under.

"Of course I did," Thompson removed his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve. "It gave you an advantage over the other scholars we looked at for this placement."

"I…you…what?" Emily seemed at a loss for words. "You…you said that I was picked on my own merit."

"You were-"

"How am I supposed to believe that when I'm related to the guy that did _that_," she jabbed a finger at Steve, "and then had people spying on me?"

"_You_ are the best person for the job," Steve assured her. She waved off his words and leaned forward to look Thompson square in the eyes.

"He is right. But it would be foolish to believe that Dr. Erskine being your grandfather didn't have some weight." Em put her head in her hands. Steve had to resist the urge to reach over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Did S.H.I.E.L.D. send me the Captain America comic book?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D., no. But one of our agents did. Agent Brian Falsworth did so at the request of his mother." Steve's eyes whipped around to study Thompson.

"Peggy?" he asked.

"Yes. Director Stoner wasn't pleased, but Peggy Falsworth was always given some latitude. Her son explained to me that she felt it a shame that Dr. Erskine's family was unaware of what he had done. She knew you had an interest in World War II already, and thought you would appreciate it the most." Steve smiled and shook his head; Peggy had certainly chosen well.

After a short break and hour and a half later, Thompson was wondering why he thought this was a good idea.

"Why can't you see that I'm doing the right thing?" Steve demanded, running a hand through his hair as he paced.

"Would you just get off the fucking cross already?!" Emily spat.

"Dr. Harthorn," Thompson warned. He looked longingly at his desk where he'd hidden the bottle of scotch.

"No, seriously! You're all 'Woe is me, I'm a target for baddies. Better block out _anything_ that might make me happy because I'm such a tortured soul'."

"That's not fair," Steve countered. "You know that I want to be with you, but that I can't."

"Why is that?" Thompson interceded before Emily could shoot back a reply. She was getting very frustrated with the number of times they were repeating this argument.

"Because I can't be responsible for her getting hurt."

"I managed twenty-seven years without your help."

"And in the last few months, look at how many times you've been hurt because of me," Steve countered.

"I'm not some delicate flower! I can take a bruise or two."

"How about another concussion? Or a broken wrist?"

"Sprained."

"Being around me could get you killed."

"Oh dear god, do we need to be so melodramatic?" Emily rolled her eyes. "I swear, you could find a way to blame yourself if I got a splinter."

"You should recognize that there is a grain of truth to his worries," the psychologist said, causing them both to look at him. Steve muttered a quiet 'See?'. "While you aren't a 'delicate flower' as you put it, you should recognize that you are indeed less…durable, for a lack of a better term, than Captain Rogers."

"Everyone is!"

"True," Thompson conceded, placing the tips of his fingers together and looking over them at her. "But you have no hand-to-hand combat or weapons training. While you are at S.H.I.E.L.D. you will potentially be exposed to threats, ones that could be detrimental to your health. Therefore, Captain Rogers has a valid reason to be concerned."

"Thank you," Steve said.

"However," Thompson held up a finger. "Dr. Harthorn does have a legitimate point as well." Emily sat up and raised an eyebrow. Maybe Steve would _finally _listen. "While admirable, you fail to recognize that she is in fact a woman capable of protecting herself."

"You just said-" Steve protested, but Thompson cut him off.

"There are more ways to protect oneself than with physical means. Besides you sits a woman who has gone through tragedy and come out the other side, a little battle weary but stronger for it. She is an adult, who has experiences that have made her who she is. And when you say that you have ended whatever your relationship is for her safety, you discount her life experience. Dr. Harthorn, while not _as_ capable of physically protecting herself," he ignored her noise of protest, "_is_ able to look after herself."

"Thank you…I think," Emily squinted.

"Is that what you think I do?" Steve asked after a long moment. He put his hands on the back of the couch and leaned forward, trying to meet Emily's eyes.

"Not in so many words," Emily sighed. Her eyes met Steve's for a fraction of a second before darting to Thompson. "I…uh…" she glanced down at her watch and stood. "I need to go."

"Where?" Steve asked.

"We're not quite done here," Thompson protested.

"Shoes. I…erm… I need shoes."

"Shoes?" Steve echoed, straightening up.

"Yes. I need some for…"

"For?" Thompson prodded.

"I…I've got plans. Ones that require new shoes. And maybe a purse."

"Retail therapy?"

"A bit."

"What plans?" Steve asked. The blush that bloomed on her cheeks made him dread the words coming out of her mouth.

"I've got a date."

OOO

Emily untied her black raincoat and shrugged it off, taking a deep breath. "It's a date, Em. It's just a date." She looked herself over in the mirror, swiping at a stray bit of eyeliner under her eye, and gave herself a nod. Before her confidence crumbled again. "This is why you don't date." She tapped the toe of her new Ann Marino Lido pumps on the floor, causing the black bow to shift.

They were a good splurge. One that she really shouldn't indulged in, with the new apartment rent and buying furniture, but she needed it. Desperately.

She smoothed down her hair and stepped away from the mirror. Once she'd deposited it in the coat closet, Em tapped her new clutch on her thigh while waiting for the maître d' to find her reservation. Apparently, she was the last to arrive.

"Josh?" Emily asked as the maître d' stopped at a table.

"You must be Emily," the older man said as he stood, a smile on his lips. He had dark hair, and was going slightly grey at the temples.

"That'd be me," she nodded, taking his outstretched hand.

"It's nice to meet you…finally." The slightly teasing tone made her smile as the maître d' held out the chair for her to sit. Em thanked him.

"Sorry about that. I was out of town and just got back recently."

"Oh? Lauren didn't mention that."

"She doesn't exactly know, and I'd appreciate if it stayed that way."

"My lips are sealed," Josh grinned.

At least this blind date wasn't off to a horrible start.

* * *

_Fight, I can fight _  
_I can punch back the night _  
_If you say I can lay right here by your side _

_Into you _  
_Into you _  
_Can we break down _  
_Let me through _  
_Take me back into you _  
_Into you _  
_Into you_

_Into You by Ingrid Michaelson_

* * *

**Author's Note: **Major apologies, guys. It's been a hectic week. A few words of explanation: work, sickness, visitors, Ambassador, school, internship, meetings, and papers. As always, thanks for **blown-transistor** for being a sounding board. And **Bombshell1701 **for being awesome and pointing out some major flaws in the last chapter.

Sorry to those who don't like Steve and Em fighting, but it has to happen. And yeah, I thought them sitting in couple's therapy would be an interesting concept. Not much to say in here, except that I am in the process of getting back to those who messaged/reviewed. I'm not ignoring you! Thank you so much for your patience and continued support. As always, let me know what you think!


	35. Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Four

Emily slipped her phone back into her clutch and removed her ID badge, which she swiped over the card reader. The door unlocked and she stepped into the S.H.I.E.L.D. foyer. The man sitting at main desk gave her a look, but nodded as she walked to the elevator bank and pressed the down button.

Once inside, Emily leaned against the wall, her head falling back, and the hair clip digging into her skull. A heavy sigh passed her lips as the elevator descended, and she pressed her eyes together. The after-date recap with her sister-in-law had been exhausting. Especially given that Em had to defend why there wouldn't be a second date. Her hands fiddled with the belt of her raincoat, and she let it fall open as the doors slid open.

While what she really wanted to do was crawl into bed and take the sleeping pill Thompson had given her, Emily knew that wasn't going to happen. There was too much to be done before she went to get the keys to her new place in the morning. Her new furniture was scheduled to be delivered half an hour before her storage container. With Carter's help, she would probably be able to get everything inside and begin unpacking. Another late night and Em might be able to get a majority of it done before catching red-eye flight to Denver on Sunday night.

"Hey." Emily looked up from the floor and saw Steve standing by the door that led to the stairwell.

"Hi," she replied. They just looked at each other for a moment before Steve's hand dropped from the door and he walked towards her.

"How…how was your date?"

"It was…" Emily trailed off and shrugged. "He got called into the office."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"It was probably for the best." Steve struggled to keep his mouth from twitching into a smile.

"It's his loss," he stated. "You look really nice, by the way." Em looked down at her green A-line dress that was belted at her waist.

"Thanks."

"Did you maybe want to," he reached up to rub the back of his neck. "It's still early, if you wanted to do something."

"Not tonight," Emily shook her head. The mental 'To Do' list was too long to even consider it. She felt her eyes start to burn as she ran through it again. Stress, coupled with a lack of sleep and a bad date, was making her a bit too emotional to deal with going out in public at that moment. "Some other time."

"Oh. Okay," Steve's shoulders slumped.

"Goodnight."

"Wait!" Emily stopped walking. "I just…I just need one minute," Steve said. Emily frowned as he stepped towards her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, leaning against the wall and grasped her clutch with both hands. He took a deep breath and put a hand on the wall above her.

"Nothing, I just…"

Emily looked up at him, the difference in their height lessened somewhat by her heels, but he still loomed over her. Her heart was pounding; Em was used to men touching her, but the way Steve was looking at her felt so much more…intimate. His eyes swept across her face before meeting her gaze. When he leaned in slightly, Em's tongue darted across her lips, but he didn't kiss her. Instead, with half closed eyes, he swept the strands of hair off of her shoulder and leaned down to smell the perfume on her neck.

Steve smiled slightly as Em let out a shaky breath when his nose brushed her jaw. Unable to stop himself, his hand slipped under her jacket and wrapped around her waist. He pulled her forward slightly, and Em allowed it but looked down at the floor. His free hand left the wall and tipped her chin up, trying to make her look at him again, but her eyes drifted off to the side. "Emily," Steve said, his voice husky; his thumb ran along the zipper on the back of her dress.

"Hum?"

"I miss you." Her eyes snapped to his, and he gave her a sad smile.

"I miss you too." Em felt his breath, hot on her face, as he lowered his lips. But just before they pressed against hers, she raised her hands and pushed against his chest. "Stop." Steve froze in place, but his eyes widened at her next words. "Please don't."

"What's wrong?" He frowned when he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.

"I can't do this again," she said. "Not if you're going to turn around and say that you can't be with me. It's not fair to keep stringing me along."

"I'm sorry…I didn't think…" The corner of Emily's mouth twitched as she lowered her gaze again, this time resting on his chest.

"We need some space, ok? You should use next week to think about everything while I'm in Denver. Figure out what you want to do."

"I know what I want-"

"Then figure out what you need to do in order to let yourself do it." Em looked up at him through her lashes, wishing that she had her hair to hide behind but it was pulled up. Steve sighed and nodded as his hand moved to the back of her neck. He pulled her in, and Em turned so that her cheek rested on his chest. When he pressed a kiss into her hair, Emily closed her eyes. She could feel the tension in her body lessening as he held her.

"Okay, Sweetheart." Even though she didn't want to, Em knew she needed to stop this. Her teeth dug into her lower lip as she stepped back from him.

"Goodnight, Steve." Instead of letting her go, his hand slid down her arm and he threaded his fingers through hers.

"I'll walk you to your door. Like your date should have." This time, Emily bit her lip to stop from laughing.

"You're such the consummate gentleman, Captain." Steve smiled as they walked down the hall together.

"Someone has to be, or else dames will forget how they're supposed to be treated." Emily rolled her eyes at his assessment of her generation. "Can I ask you something?"

"It depends," she replied. He lifted their clasped hands and gently tapped her left wrist.

"Why aren't you wearing your brace?"

"Well, you see, it didn't exactly match my dress," she chuckled. He shook his head and let go of her hand as they reached her door. Once she'd retrieved her keys from the clutch, Em sighed. "So…this is me." Steve nodded and waited until she'd unlocked her room. "You should find Carter and go do something. I mean, it's pretty early and it _is_ Friday night."

"I think I might just go for a walk."

"Oh. Well, enjoy." Steve jerked a nod. "Night." He hesitated half a second before kissing her cheek.

"Goodnight."

OOO

Dear god, did Emily hate moving. The next morning was a whirlwind of paperwork, deliveries, boxes, and stress. The apartment management had been late in opening the office, which meant that she didn't get the keys until 5 minutes before the furniture movers got there. They grumbled about waiting around while she did the walk through with the apartment manager. Just as they began to move her furniture in, the storage company arrived and wanted her to come and sign for delivery. For the few minutes she was out of the apartment, the movers had arranged the things exactly where she hadn't wanted them.

Finally, at ten o'clock, it finally calmed down enough for Emily to collapse on one of her new bar stools and let herself take a breather. She pressed the bottle of water she'd bought down the street against her forehead and sighed, looking around at her new apartment. It was definitely more than she'd wanted to pay, but Em couldn't imagine spending anymore time in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s basement. Besides, with the money she was making, the two bedroom/one bath was still within her budget.

"_Allons-y_, Em," she huffed, forcing herself to stand. "Too much shit to do, not enough time." She walked down the three flights of stairs, thinking that she might as well get some exercise during the move, and twirled the keys to the storage container on her finger. The company had been kind enough to leave her with a dolly, which she loaded up with a few boxes before taking the elevator back up to her apartment. Unwilling to clutter up the living room, Em deposited them into what would be her office and set off on the next trip.

On the third trip back down, a familiar BMW pulled into a parking spot a few cars down. Emily stopped shifting her things around and swiped a hand across her sweaty brow. "About time you showed up," Em teased as the driver's side opened and Carter stepped out.

"I could just as easily have stayed in bed," the Brit replied. When the passenger's side door opened, she was surprised to see Steve emerge. "Besides, I brought extra help, and a housewarming gift." She took the bottle of champagne he handed her and stepped into his hug. "I was surprised you hadn't asked him yourself," Carter said quietly.

"We were fighting," Em offered as an explanation.

"You really shouldn't be doing any lifting with that on," Steve said, motioning to the wrist brace. "But at least you're wearing it," he added with a smile.

"If I had to wait around for help, nothing would ever get done," Em shot back, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "And besides, the company left me a dolly to use." He seemed to hesitate for a moment before giving her a quick hug.

"Well, let's get the show on the road, as you say," Carter said, swinging his arms. They helped her place a few more boxes on the dolly before Carter took it, and Steve stacked two boxes of books and lifted them easily. Em, however, grabbed the frame to her papasan chair. They took a few minutes to admire her apartment before continuing to move her things in.

At noon, Carter reminded her of the bribe that had gotten him to help her: pizza and beer. While wasn't hungry, they did break for a few beers, and Em went to work hooking up some of her electronics. Carter assembled her bookshelf, while Steve (who hadn't broken a sweat) continued to bring up boxes.

"-Have enough shit?" Carter demanded, leaning against the living room wall. Emily looked up from where she was connecting the flat screen TV to the Blu-ray player and rolled her eyes. Steve placed the latest load of boxes down in what was to be her office, and rolled the dolly back towards the door, pausing to take a ship of his beer.

"I had a house. A fully furnished, two story, three bedroom/two bath house. So I have a ton of shit, okay?"

"I don't remember there being this much."

"I haven't…wait, what?" Emily said, looking up quickly.

"It was a nice house," Carter shrugged, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "But I have to ask, what was with all of the whiteboards?"

"You were in my house?!" Steve sighed, debating between getting involved in their fight or getting more things upstairs. He had to agree, Emily did have a lot of stuff.

"Surveillance, love, how many times do I have to tell you this?"

"YOU WERE IN MY OFFICE?!" Steve rolled the dolly out the door.

OOO

"Like 'em?" Emily asked, holding up two framed pictures. Steve turned around and smiled.

"Where'd you get those?"

"They were a birthday present," she grinned. One of the posters was from the Woman's Army Corp. It had a woman standing in front of an American flag in an army uniform, with 'Are you a girl with a Star-Spangled heart?' written across the top. The second depicted a woman with her hair tied in a red polka-dotted bandana with a wrench in hand. She was looking over her shoulder at a man holding a gun. 'The girl he left behind is still behind him. She's a WOW' was written across the bottom. "I'm sure I can find the other one…Ah ha!"

Steve blushed and shook his head when Emily held up the third poster. "Please tell me you didn't have that one hanging up." It was him, with 'I Want You to Buy War Bonds Now' written on it.

"I did, at my office on campus, but Brock didn't get much work done. So I switched it out with the WAC one instead."

"Your friend Brock, the one that…uh…"

"Had the massive crush on you? Yup. We shared an office." She shrugged, "This was good motivation for when I didn't have any desire to write my dissertation."

"Glad I could help," he chuckled, his eyebrows raised slightly.

OOO

"I think we can convince Emily to call it quits soon," Carter said as he and Steve walked back towards her apartment. They had been sent out to pick up the pizza and get another case of beer while Em worked to clear a few more boxes.

"I don't think that's going to happen," Steve shook his head. "She's pretty adamant about finishing unpacking before she leaves tomorrow."

"She won't finish either way, but she needs to sleep if she's going to function at the conference. And Em doesn't want to make a fool of herself."

"Nope." Her insistence that the presentation go well so that she could get another job still hung heavily with Steve.

"Therefore, we make sure she gets a good night's sleep."

"And how do we do that?"

"With this," Carter smirked, pulling a small bottle out of his pocket and rattled it.

"You're going to drug her?" Steve stopped walking and pulled Carter's arm to make him stop as well.

"It's a prescription, don't worry. Kingston gave it to Thompson, who might have mentioned it in passing."

"No."

"Steve," the agent sighed, "You know as well as I do that Emily _won't_ let herself relax if she's thinking about everything that needs to be done before she leaves. And we've both seen how well she functions on limited sleep. Do you want her stumbling around halfway across the country, out of your reach?"

Steve thought about it for a minute. Making Emily take something without her knowledge _was_ wrong, but without sleep, she'd be in a bad way. And it wasn't like she was getting restful sleep when she did if that nightmare a few days ago was any indicator.

"I'm not having any part of this," he said finally.

"Didn't expect you to. Just don't let her have another beer." Steve looked at the case in his hands and sighed. Yes, that would be easy.

"_And something happens to me and it's some kind of wonderful." _They could hear Emily's music playing as soon as they unlocked the door. Grinning, Carter set the pizzas on the counter and zigzagged his way across the pathway of boxes to her office. When Emily shrieked, followed quickly by a laugh, Steve found his way over as well. _"Now I can't express this feeling of tenderness. There's so much I wanna say, but the right words don't come my way."_

Carter had Emily in his arms and they were turning quickly. _"I only know when I'm in your embrace, then this world seems a better place." _Steve grinned as Emily laughed again, her head thrown back. _"And something happens to me, and it's some kind of wonderful."_ When they stopped, Carter lead them in a quick few steps before spinning her out. Em kicked a few empty boxes out of the way and rolled her eyes when he pulled her back in and dipped her.

"Show off," she chuckled when he finally set her on her feet. Steve clapped for a few seconds, unable to stop from smiling.

"You enjoyed it," he countered, pressing a kiss to her temple. She gently hit his chest before stepping out of his embrace.

"Let's eat." Smirking, Carter gave an exaggerated bow and motioned for her to precede him. But when she moved to the kitchen to grab a slice of pizza, he put a hand on her shoulder and directed her towards the couch.

"You relax. I'll get it for you."

"Thanks. I'll just grab another beer."

"Uh…" The look Carter gave Steve made him pause. "You should have some water," the soldier recovered quickly. "You haven't had any in a while." It was a bad cover up, but Em shrugged and water bottle instead. When she sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor, the guys got the pizza.

"Here you are," Carter said, handing her a slice. They ate in silence, listening to the music drifting out from the office.

Steve had been exposed to quite a bit of modern music throughout the day, mixed in with the classics on Em's iPod. He'd found that he liked a band called The Fray and a singer called Michael Buble. Carter had teased him when he'd mentioned that a woman named Adele who reminded him a lot of the female singers from his time. However, it had been rather disturbing when Em and Carter had both been screaming along to a band called Nirvana, and he hadn't liked what Green Day had been saying about the country (even though they had ever right to say it).

"What's this song called?" he asked about fifteen minutes later.

"Hum?" Emily said. Steve raised an eyebrow and shot a look at Carter, who gave him a wink. Emily had lain back on the floor and was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"This song, what's it called."

"C'est '_La Vie en Rose'_. C'est ma chanson favorite."

"Dernier used to hum it." Em forced her eyes open and propped herself up on her elbows.

"Grandfather told me that," Carter added. "They played it at his funeral. Apparently Dugan attempted to sing it at the pub they went to after and nearly was thrown out."

"Dugan never had a singing voice," Steve chuckled and took a sip from his beer. He felt heaviness in his stomach whenever he thought about his two Commandos he'd never see again.

"_Quand il me prend dans ses bras_…" Emily sang under her breath.

"What's she saying?" Steve asked Carter as Em continued to sing along softly. Carter translated.

"Do you know the song background?" Emily asked when it was finished. When Steve said he didn't, she smiled. "Edith Piaf had that line, the 'When he takes me in his arms' come to her when she was standing in front of an American man in 1944. So," she opened her eyes and focused her gaze on him. "Were you in Paris by any chance in '44?"

"I don't think I was," Steve grinned.

"_Zut_," Em chuckled before closing her eye and humming along to the next song. Within five minutes, she'd fallen asleep.

"Excellent," Carter said, putting his beer to the side. "That took less time than I thought it would."

"You gave it to her already?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup. Ground up the pill and put it under the cheese on her pizza." Steve shook his head. "She's going to be mad when she wakes up, but oh well. Now, I'm off."

"What?"

"I've got an early morning call with…" Carter trailed off. "I've got to get up early."

"Just give me a minute to get Emily in bed, and I'll be ready to go," Steve said, standing up and collecting his plate and empty beer bottle.

"What? No. It'd be best if you stayed here tonight."

"Why?"

"Those pills have some side effects, and it might be best if someone was here to watch out for her," Carter nodded to Emily, who had an arm flung across her eyes.

"What kind of side effects?" Steve asked wearily, wondering what he'd let Carter do.

"Nothing bad. Just make sure if she starts sleep walking, you get a video of it." Steve frowned; even if he did have a camera, making a film of Emily sleepwalking wasn't something he'd do. "Well, I'll call it a night. Just…make sure that you clear a path in case Em does take a little night time stroll."

Once Carter had left and Steve locked the door behind him, he turned his attention to the sleeping woman on the floor. Sighing, he crouched next to her and slid an arm under her shoulders and knees, lifting her easily. While they had been getting dinner, Em had apparently made the bed, something he was grateful for.

"Goodnight, Emily," Steve said quietly once he'd removed her shoes and tucked her in. He kissed her cheek before leaving the room. After pushing some boxes out of the way, he settled down on the couch and tried to fall asleep.

OOO

Emily shifted, trying to force herself to fall back asleep even as her body forced itself awake. Finally she gave it up as a bad job and arched her back, rolling from her side and…

"Ouch!"

"WHAT THE?" she sat up quickly. "Steve?"

"Morning," he groaned, rubbing his cheek where she'd elbowed him.

"What are you doing in my bed?"

"You were sleepwalking last night. Said something about having to go to the store, and wouldn't let go of your car keys. And then you wouldn't stay in bed so…"

"I get the general idea," Em sighed. A hint of a smile played on her lips as she reached out and gently touched his cheek. "Sorry about that."

"It's not the worst wake up I've had." She bit back the question on the tip of her tongue; asking him what his best wake up had been probably wasn't a good idea if she was trying to give him time to figure out what he wanted.

"Still." He propped himself up on an elbow and smiled at her. Em had to fight back the urge to run her hand through his sleep-tousled hair.

"What do you say we get some breakfast before tackling some more of the boxes? And maybe you can drive me to S.H.I.E.L.D. so I can get some fresh clothes?" Emily smiled at him for a moment picking up his wrist and looking at his watch.

"FUCK!"

Steve frowned, "What's wrong?" Emily scrambled out of bed, her feet getting tangled in the sheets.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she said, looking around her mess of a room. "Where the hell is everything?"

"Emily?" Steve got out of bed just as she ripped open a box and upended it. Shoes tumbled out, and Em extracted a pair of red high heels before kicking the rest into the closet.

"I can take most of what I had a S.H.I.E.L.D.," she said to herself, "but I need that damn blue dress! Oh shit, and my grey dress... Another blazer?"

"Emily," Steve said sternly, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Take a breath. You've got time to pack."

"I should have packed last night!" Em said, angry tears pooling in her eyes. "I've got so much to do before I leave." Steve shook his head and bent to rest his forehead against hers.

"Take a breath and relax. You'll finish everything, okay?"

"You don't kno-"

"Yes I do. Now, sit down and make a list of what you have to do, and I'll go down the street and get us something for breakfast. And when I get back, we'll do whatever you need done. Got it?" Em forced a breath deep in her lungs and nodded. "Good."

OOO

True to his word, Steve stayed until Emily accomplished everything on her list. He even ran to the drug store and picked up some travel shampoo and conditioner for her while she tracked down her clothes from the boxes scattered around the apartment. It was only around four o'clock that he borrowed her car and drove back to S.H.I.E.L.D. to get a fresh set of clothes and a shower. Carter had showed up shortly there after, looking slightly upset but unwilling to discuss it.

Instead, he wanted to talk about an impromptu trip to Denver.

"I don't need Captain America sitting in the front seat while I talk about him," Emily said as she zipper her suitcase shut.

"But it would make it so much more interesting," Carter said. Emily sighed and brushed her hair from her face.

"No, it wouldn't. I already hate that I'm basically going to stand up there and lie to the academic community, I don't need the physical proof there."

"You're just worried that you'll mess up and say 'Steve' and point him out."

"That's part of it," she admitted, retrieving her computer bag from the closet. Carter laughed and picked the suitcase off the bed and carried it to the living room for her. "I'm only going to be gone for a few days."

"It'll be rather boring without you here. I'm still not out on assignment, and you're my primary entertainment in the city."

"Thanks," she smirked, grabbing the magazine from the shopping bag and shoving it into the carry on. "Steve will still be here, so you two can do something. Go to a baseball game or something."

"Baseball," Carter rolled his eyes. "I think not."

"You'll think of something. Other than flying to Denver," Em added quickly, seeing the glint in his eye.

"Fine, fine," he waved his hand. "No going to Colorado, even though I've never been there. Honestly, you're impeding my knowledge of the United States." It was Emily's turn to roll her eyes.

"You can go any time you want, _except_ this week." Carter huffed and looked at his watch.

"Care for a quick bite?"

"My plane leaves in four hours. I need to finish packing."

"I'll go get us something. You don't want to fly on an empty stomach."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ok, here it is guys. Sorry about the delay again, but I'm in the middle of my hell month with school. Responsibility was pushed off tonight in favor of finishing this chapter. As always, thanks to **blown-transistor**, but a special thanks to **pizzagirl** for music input, and **Bombshell1701** for pushing me to update quicker (yes, you are as impatient as Tony Stark).

Songs included in this chapter are Some Kind of Wonderful by Michael Buble, and La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf. Yes, the backstory for the latter song, and I've wanted that bit in there for a while. The same goes with Carter and Emily dancing.

Sorry if this chapter seems like a bit of a filler, but I needed to get somethings done in a short amount of time. The date that Em went on is the one that her sister-in-law set up with they were traveling. I had this whole backstory set up for Josh (her date) and why it wouldn't work, but I didn't want to weigh the chapter down too much with it. Long story short, he's going through a divorce, is her brother's age, and has 2 teenage daughters. All of that, coupled with Steve, makes Em realize it's too much to deal with at the present (I pictured her telling Lauren, "I'm too young to have two teenage step-daughters, Laur.").

The posters Em shows Steve are actual ones used during WWII. I found this really great book full of them, but I'm pretty sure you can find them online if you Google them. As always, thank you so much for reading, and let me know what you think!


	36. Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

_Now all the stars have gone_

_Faded into cracks and dawn_

_And I'm still waiting here_

_Waiting for you to come home_

_I am waiting here_

_Waiting for you to come home_

_Waiting by Norah Jones_

* * *

Steve glanced down at the phone in his hand and debated himself.

It was late. But she usually stayed up late.

She was probably busy with work. But she'd told him to call with any questions.

Other than the quick 'text message' that Carter had helped Steve open (he hadn't remembered how from his previous phone lessons), Emily hadn't been in touch. On Monday, he'd expected it. She was probably catching up with her friends. And on Tuesday, Steve was sure that she was busy with the conference. But it was edging closer to eleven in New York that Wednesday, he was itching to call her. Just to see how her day had been. And…

If he was being honest with himself, Steve sighed, it was because he was lonely.

While Carter had made an extra effort to spend time with him, it wasn't the same. Steve missed looking up to see Emily chewing on her lip and staring intently at her work. More often than not, she'd have her hair pulled out of her face and her glasses would be halfway down her nose. He wanted her to lean closer to him while pointing at something in one of those binders, and explain some historical fact so that he could see her eyes light up.

"Hello?" Emily's laughing voice answered the phone.

"Hi," Steve said, his hand shooting to rub the back of his neck. He pressed his eyes shut and shook his head; it wasn't like Emily could see him right now.

"Hey! What's up?" There were voices in the background, and Steve thought he heard someone yell 'Em! Baby, come back to bed!'. It was confirmed when Emily quickly told that person to shut up.

"I…uh…just had some questions about the binders," he lied, "but if you're busy, it's-"

"We're just leaving the restaurant now. Mind if I call you back in about 20 minutes?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem."

"Ok, talk to you in a bit." Just before hanging up, Steve heard a wolf whistle and 'Hey baby'. Shaking his head, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Twenty-seven minutes late, Steve's phone rang. Grinning, he hit the green button and lifted it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, sorry about that. Everyone wanted to go out of drinks and were trying to get me to go," Em sighed.

"Oh. You should have gone out. You didn't have to call me back."

"No!" she said quickly, hearing the guilt in his voice, "You were the perfect excuse to call it an early night. I'm exhausted." Steve chuckled.

"You must be tired if you're admitting it."

"I swear to god, I've become an old lady in these last few months. I don't know how these youngsters party all the time." They were quiet for a beat before they both started laughing. "But seriously," Emily giggled, "I don't think my liver can take drinking every night, especially having to get up at 9:00 every morning for a presentation."

"How's the conference going?"

"We'll get to that," she said, "but first, what were your questions?"

"Oh, erm," Steve sat up quickly and pulled the closest binder on his desk towards him. As quietly as possible, he rifled through the pages before stopping halfway through. "Uh…the Watergate scandal… I was wondering what that was all about."

"Steve?"

"Yes?"

"Did you happen to turn the next page?" he could hear the suppressed smile in her voice and felt himself flush. The next few pages looked like they contained very detailed notes on the Watergate scandal.

"Oh. Uh…"

"You don't have to make excuses to call, you know."

"I just," Steve sighed, "I didn't want to bother you. You're busy with your presentations and lectures, and –"

"I'm not too busy to talk to you." Smiling, Steve laid back on his bed, an arm under his head. "Did you have any actual questions, or was this just a ploy to call me?"

"Just a ploy," he said, chuckling at her teasing tone.

"Good, that means I can switch my brain off for the night."

"Can you do that?"

"I can try," she said. He furrowed his eyebrows when she sounded a bit further away. "And part of it starts with getting out of these business professional clothes. How are things there? Carter driving you nuts yet?"

"A bit. He's still not out on assignment and is getting antsy," Steve replied, actively trying to not picture Emily changing out of her clothes. A soft 'Mmhmm' came across the line. "He's acting strange, though."

"Oh?"

"He's not saying anything," Steve sighed, "but something's going on."

"Should I call him?" Emily asked, her concerned voice closer now.

"I'd give him some time." They were quiet for a moment, both trying to think of what could be bothering their friend. "How are things out there?"

"Crazy, as usual," she huffed. "I swear, we can never have a normal trip. Jan's luggage got lost, and she'd put her notes and presentation in the bag so she was freaking out about that. Of course, her roommate went home for the weekend and no one has the keys to her apartment, but thankfully the janitor let Philip into her office at the campus and she'd left a copy in there. She did hers yesterday. And then Brock's today was a fiasco. He had too much to drink last night…" Steve nodded, adding a comment here and there as she rambled on.

"You miss it, don't you?" he asked when she'd stopped talking. When he heard her yawn, he looked at his watch.

"Parts of it," she replied. "It's fun being in an academic setting again. And seeing the people from my department….well, _most_ of them." Her tone made Steve frown, and he made a noise to signal her to continue. "It's just…there are things that I left at that university that are in the past. And some people are having trouble acknowledging that."

And then it clicked.

"That professor that you were seeing." Emily was quiet for a minute.

"Dave, yeah…"

"He's giving you trouble?"

"Nothing I can't handle," she said quickly. "It just that…I don't want people to know. And I'm already stressed enough with my lecture happening tomorrow, and I saw Dr. Doan walking around today, so I know the Q&A is going to be brutal. And, I'm done talking about that because I'm getting myself anxious again. Have you done anything fun while I've been gone?"

After assuring her that she'd do great, Steve told Em about his trip out to Brooklyn, where he'd wandered around trying to find places he recognized. And going to see Stark Tower where he had mistakenly thought a waitress was referring to wireless radio (Emily laughed and told him it was internet that she was talking about). And how Carter had tried to drag him out to a nightclub that he swore Steve would love.

"Has he said anything about going to Maine for the Forth of July?" Emily asked sleepily.

"No," Steve replied, stifling a yawn. "He hasn't said anything to me."

"My mom's trying to get a headcount for whose all going to be at the camp."

"I'll ask him."

"Thanks." Over their next break in talking, Steve heard Emily's breathing even out.

"Emily?" No answer. "Emily, are you awake?" Shaking his head, Steve walked across his own room and turned off the light before returning to bed and pulling back the sheets. Once he'd lain back down, phone still pressed to his ear, he smiled. "Good night, Honey."

OOO

"You're sure she won't mind?" Steve asked as he and Carter walked through the airport late Thursday morning.

"No, she'll be happy to see us," the agent grinned as they emerged from the terminal. He flagged down a taxi and gave them the name of the hotel Emily, and consequently they, were staying at. It had taken two day for him to come to the realization that there was only so much he and Steve could spar and watch movies before they became tired of each other's company. Carter had given Steve another day to suggest the trip himself, but when he hadn't, well…it had been time to intervene. "Besides, she has no right to ban us from a conference that's open to anyone willing to pay the fee. And it wasn't too smart of her not to bring you along. Imagine all of the lectures you could have sat in on! Really, she's impeding your education."

"If she does get mad, you're the one that's going to tell her that," Steve smirked. Once they'd arrived and checked, Carter inquired what room Emily was staying in. Although the woman was somewhat hesitant to give him the information, she eventually caved after much flirting on Carter's part.

"Easily done," Carter said as they walked to the elevator bank. Steve paused to look at the listing of presentations on the being held and quickly found Emily's. A quick glance at his watch told him that they still had two hours before her session would begin.

"Should we find her and let her know we're here?" Steve asked as they got on the elevator, accompanied by four other people dressed in professional wear.

"Absolutely not," Carter said quickly. "She'll kill us if we find her before her presentation. That girl is a bundle of nerves before she lectures in front of a large crowd."

"You just said she'd be happy to see us!"

"Yes, _after_," Carter rolled his eyes. "But it's probably better that she never know we're here. Now, we've got time to kill…Why don't we hit the bar?"

OOO

Emily paced her room, her note cards slapping the palm of her hand. "Selling the war as an explanation for foreign intervention…purchasing war bonds stimulated the economy… total war…utilization of women in factories…"

Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking. Although she was somewhat thirsty, Em was afraid of drinking too much before going into the ballroom. Nervously, her hand patted the pocket of her blazer, assuring herself that the emergency flash drive was indeed there, just in case the presentation failed.

"Em?" there was a tentative knock on her door.

"Be right out," she squeaked before clearing her throat and repeating herself. After checking her hair (twisted into a knot with her bangs swooped to the side) and straightening her grey dress, Em gave a nervous smile and forced herself to take a deep breath. "Knock it off, Emily. You always psych yourself out before giving a lecture."

"Emily, come on!" Brock whined, hitting the door a bit harder. "I know what you're doing in there. You're going to be fine. Doan won't even-"

"Doan is here?!" Emily shrieked, throwing the door open.

"Oh," Brock said, "I thought June told you."

"Oh god, _merde_, fuck-"

"Hey! You're going to do great," her friend said, reaching out to pull her into a hug. "I mean, come on, you won the teaching award last year. You're a natural."

"Undergraduates, Brock," Emily sighed, burying her face in his shoulder. "They don't give a shit about what I'm lecturing on. This is _Doctor Joseph Doan_ we're talking about. He's the lead in the field. He's-"

"A huge dickwad who needs to get his head out of his ass and realize that not everyone cares about what he says?"

"But I do care," Emily groaned. "Having him critique your work is like having Michelangelo look over your painting." Brock laughed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly.

"No, it's not. And even if it were, you'd have a rave review. Believe me, I've been privy to quite a few of your practice routines. And just think…Forth of July drinks right after!" Em smiled, thinking about celebrating after all of the stress was gone. In an hour, it would be over one way or another.

"Why aren't you straight?" she smirked, reaching up to peck his cheek.

"Hey, I've asked Mike if you could join, but he's against polyandrous relationships."

"Damn," Emily laughed.

OOO

"There she is," Carter nodded towards the elevator bank where Emily had just stepped out. Her arm was wrapped around the waist of a slightly heavy-set red headed man, and his arm was flung over her shoulders.

"Whose that she's with?"

"Brock Ligler, her former office mate. He's-"

"Funny, I know," Steve said, feeling a weight lifting off of his shoulder. Or, at least, until they'd joined a group of people milling about and one of the dark haired men attempted to hold her hand. As he watched, Emily quickly folded her arms across her chest and stepped closer to Brock.

"And that would be Dr. David Griffing, Emily's…ex-fling."

Steve raised an eyebrow as he studied the man who was his girl's former beau. He was tall and slim, and even from a distance he could tell that he had an ego on him. Even though Emily tried to avoid him, Dr. Griffing kept finding reasons to touch her; even going as far as having his hand brush her backside.

It took everything in him to not stride across the room and tell him to back off.

They waited for a bit longer until Emily and her group walked into the room where she'd be giving the lecture. As a precaution, they didn't go in right away but allowed the room to fill mostly up. "Is that Dr. Doan?" Carter frowned, peering over the crowd. Steve followed his gaze to where an elderly man with a potbelly was holding court with a group of older people.

"That's Doan?" Steve asked, eyes darting over the man's long silver hair tied back in a ponytail. A green shirt covered with palm trees peeked out from under his suit jacket.

"God, I hope Emily didn't see him."

"That's the man they were considering for Emily's job?"

"He's smarter than he looks," Carter shrugged.

"They made the better choice."

OOO

Steve clapped as the woman introducing Emily stepped back from the podium and shook Em's hand. She took a deep breath and smiled as she took her spot, placing a handful of cards on the podium and grabbing a small box.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Emily Harthorn and I will be discussing the utilization of propaganda by the US government during the Second World War. I'd like to thank the panel for taking the time to read my work, and for you being interested enough to come listen to me." There was a small amount of chuckling as Emily pointed the box at the screen behind her. "Prior to the country's involvement with World War II…"

Smiling, Steve crossed his legs and leaned forward to watch her talk. She was…impressive. This wasn't the sleep deprived history teacher who sat with him in the gym, but an academic who kept talking about the Herman and Chomsky conceptual propaganda model and its use in political economics, symbolism, positive correlations between data points, increased revenue, public ownership, and things he barely understood.

As he watched Emily walk across the stage, he smiled as a sudden realization hit him.

She was his rock.

Dr. Thompson had told him that he needed to find some reason for him to exist in this new time, something to ground him in the present. And Emily was that.

She was the perfect bridge between his time and this one. Emily didn't laugh when he didn't know something, was patient when he fumbled through using new technology, and was willing to give him space when he needed it.

Watching her, Steve understood why he had resisted being with her. Yes, part of it was for her protection, both physical and emotional. But the larger part had been about protecting himself.

He'd lost so much. With Peggy and Bucky and Howards…Morita and Dernier…Colonel Phillips and Dr. Erskine…his Mom and Pops… It was too much. Steve couldn't handle the thought of losing someone else that he loved.

It had taken Emily's absence to realize just how much she'd come to mean to him. Yes, he'd known that he loved her, but he hadn't realized how much. And, loathed though he was to admit, it scared him slightly. Steve had loved Peggy, he knew that, and would never forget her. But they hadn't had the time to know one another. With him constantly in the field, and her with Colonel Phillips, they'd had to rely on letters and stolen conversations to learn about each other.

With Emily, Steve smiled again as she motioned to the screen behind her, he'd had an abundance of time. They'd learned about each others past, likes and dislikes, families, childhood, dreams…

Time. He had time with her.

Emily wasn't going to disappear in the blink of an eye like everyone else had.

"You alright?" Carter asked, nudging Steve with his elbow.

"Yeah," Steve replied, grinning as his girl continued her lecture. When his own picture appeared on the screen, he could have sworn a faint smirk crossed her lips before she took a quick sip of water.

"_Captain_ Steven Rogers," her extra emphasis on his rank made Carter chuckle, "was one of the most popular propaganda figures in 1943. His character, Captain America was the embodiment of the American patriotic duty to contribute to the war effort. Captain America was meant to draw forth an emotional response rather than an intellectual one. His posters, movies, and comic books emphasized his masculinity to boost enlistment numbers. His All-American good looks and manners," Steve saw her blush slightly, "helped to increase the number of war bonds sold and give a those without a loved one fighting overseas someone to emotionally connect with."

Beside him, Carter chuckled again as he saw Steve flush slightly. "'All-American good looks'? Eh, she's obviously biased." Steve lightly punched the Brit and returned his attention to Emily, who talked for another minute or so before concluding. It has lasted about fifteen minutes. "Now comes the fun part."

A rather fixed smile settled on Emily's lips as she turned to face the three person panel in front of the stage. "We just have a few questions for you, Dr. Harthorn," Dr. Doan said, leaning forward to look at his notepad full of scribbled notes.

"Of course," she replied, her voice slightly higher.

OOO

"That was great, babe," Dave said, pulling a reluctant Emily into his embrace. He'd somehow managed to find her before the rest of their group.

"Thanks," she sighed, disentangling herself and trying to ignore the lingering hand on her lower back slid lower. June squealed and flung herself at Em, telling her how well she'd done shooting down Doan's questions and proving him wrong.

"I mean, seriously, it's like you've got an inside source or something," June laughed.

"Don't I wish," Emily chuckled nervously. "But I'm ready for a drink."

"Preach!" Megan laughed, raising her right hand over her head. "I say we all change and meet down here in forty minutes. Remember: red, white, and blue is mandatory. We may not be at home but damn it, we're celebrating while we've got Emmie with us!"

"Thanks," Emily laughed as her friend threw an arm over her shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze. They dispersed, some heading right to their rooms and others spreading out to talk to other people they'd met. Quite a few people came to talk to Emily, who had an unwelcomed specter at her elbow the entire time. "You didn't have to wait for me," she whispered to Dave when she finally was free.

"I wanted to talk to you," he shrugged, trying to thread his fingers through hers again.

"Would you stop, please," she huffed, crossing her arms again as they waited for the elevator.

"Why do you care anymore?" he sighed. "It's not like you're a student or anything."

"Because I do," Emily snapped. Thankfully the elevator appeared and they joined the group piling inside.

"I just…I need to talk to you, Em," Dave hissed, leaning close to whisper in her ear. He folded his suit jacket over his arm.

"Can it wait?"

"No. You've been avoiding my calls and I'm leaving for the airport in an hour. I need it to be now."

"Fine," an exasperated Emily rolled her eyes. When they reached her floor, he followed her off of the elevator and down the hall. Dave refused to start the conversation until she'd opened the door to her room and motioned him inside. "What is it, Dave?"

As the door clicked shut, Dave tossed his jacket onto the bed and grabbed Emily's arm, spinning her so that her back was pressed against the wall. One hand wrapped around the back of her neck, forcing her head up as his lips crashed down on hers. Emily squeaked in protest, pushing against his shoulders as his free hand ran down her thigh and began to tug at the hem of her dress upwards. Quickly, her hands shot down to grab his and he took the momentary distraction as his chance to cup her left breast.

"Stop," Emily ordered as his lips moved to her neck, the tip of his tongue tracing over the pulse point there. Her involuntary gasp egged him on, and he kissed up her neck until he gently bit her earlobe. "Stop, Dave, STOP!"

"Come on, honey, I know you missed this."

"Fuck off," she spat, shoving hard against him. He stumbled backwards and frowned.

"Emmie, baby-"

"I AM NOT YOUR BABY!"

"Fine, fine!" Dave said quickly, throwing his hands up. "I get it, you don't want a quicky before my flight leaves." Emily turned red in the face and clenched her fists.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Room."

"Answer me this first. What are you actually doing in New York? Cause I sure as hell know you're not at NYU, cause no one I know there has heard of you."

Emily paled. She had completely forgotten that Dave had done his doctorate at NYU. Of course he would still know people there! Why hadn't she thought of that before?!

"Its…its none of your damn business," she stuttered. "Now get the hell out before I call the security."

"It's none of my business?" Dave demanded. "I've been covering for you since you left! I sure as hell deserve an explanation."

"I don't owe you anything.- STAY AWAY FROM ME!" When Dave took another step forward, Emily pulled back her fist and…

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Dave clutched his eye and howled as Emily ducked around him, grabbed her purse, and threw the door open. "You're a fucking psycho, you bitch."

"Yeah?" she said, pulling her keys out and quickly threading them through her fingers as she stepped out into the hallway. "Get the hell out of my room."

"Bitch," Dave muttered again, storming out. Em darted back into the room and grabbed his jacket.

"And take your fucking jacket with you!" she snapped, hurling it at him.

OOO

"Emily," Steve grinned as he answered his phone. "How'd it go?"

"Good," she replied, her voice sounding strained. "Better than I expected."

"Are you okay?"

"Just tired," she said. "Its kind of exhausting being so anxious all day."

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Yeah. Look, I'll tell you all about it when I get home tomorrow. I've got to get ready for dinner. I…" Steve frowned when she hesitated, "mis…I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright. And Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss you too."

* * *

**Author's Note**: 1) I do not condone Dave's actions and they are never appropriate in any situation. 2) I am by no means an expert on propaganda. What is in this chapter was just BS that sounded good. 3) Yes, Carter and Steve were invited by Emily to spend the Fourth of July with the Harthorns.

Those disclaimers aside, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As always, thanks to **blown-transistor** for being a sounding board and helping me get Steve's epiphany right. I wanted to try and get the two sides of Emily right, and it was a bit of a struggle. Er...can't think of much else to say in this one except yay for those of you who guessed that they would fly out to Denver! Oh, and happy belated Halloween.


	37. Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Six

_Auf wiedersehen__  
__Auf wiedersehen__  
__We'll meet again, sweetheart__  
__This lovely day has flown away__  
__The time has come to part__  
__We'll kiss again, like this again__  
__Don't let the teardrops start__  
__With love that's true, I'll wait for you__  
__Auf wiedersehen, sweetheart_

_Auf Wiedersehe'n Sweetheart by Vera Lynn_

* * *

"Emily will be running late," Carter said after checking his phone. "Apparently she's just gotten home and is getting ready now."

"Should we wait for her?" Steve asked, straightening his tie.

After Emily's presentation, Carter and Steve had gone to have a few drinks before turning in for the night. Steve hadn't been surprised when Emily and her friends had walked in. What had surprised him was how hard she was trying to look happy. He'd wanted to walk over to her and tell her how beautiful she looked in the blue dress she was wearing (and he found it somewhat funny that her shoes were red and jewelry white), but Carter had stopped him. And, to be fair, her friends did seem to be trying to cheer her up. It had taken a while, but Emily had finally given a genuine smile and started to have fun.

"No. She said that she'll meet us there," Carter clapped Steve's shoulder as they walked down the hall together. "Besides, this will give me the time to teach you things that Emily cannot." Steve quirked his eyebrows, unsure if that was a good thing or not.

After all, Carter thought, he did have a new mission to complete.

OOO

"_Ah, Agent Falsworth," Dr. Thompson said as he handed over a few dollars for his coffee._

"_Dr. Thompson," Carter nodded, wishing he'd been slower in picking his lunch. _

"_I hear that you've not been medically cleared yet." Carter clenched his teeth and jerked a nod. "Well, if you would be willing to assist me in a project, I would greatly appreciate it."_

"_Look, Doc, I-"_

"_It involves you friends, Dr. Harthron and Captain Rogers." That made Carter pause._

"_Go on," he finally said._

"_Those two seem to obstinately refuse what is right in front of their very eyes. I'm looking for assistance in making them see that."_

OOO

Going out for drinks, _again_, was not something Emily had wanted to do upon getting back home, she thought as she tossed her keys onto the counter. Em kicked off her shoes and ran to her bedroom, leaving the suitcase was left in the doorway. She stripped off her shirt and was in the process of wiggling out of her jeans when she saw the box sitting on her bed. "Carter," she growled, seeing his writing on the note he'd placed to the top.

_Wear this tonight. You'll look ravishing._

Her annoyance disappeared, however, when she opened the box. Sitting in the tissue paper was a 1950's light blue halter swing dress. She'd been looking at one online for a long time but could never justify the expense. Her fingers stroked the silken material, and smiled. She had the perfect things to complete the outfit.

OOO

"So what you need to realize," Carter said as he and Steve sat at the table he'd reserved, "is that most of the women in here are lonely. They didn't get all dolled up to come and sit by themselves or with their girlfriends." Steve blushed and wished that Emily would arrive soon. He was really not interested in having this lesson.

"I'm not looking for-" Carter cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"They came out for the chance of finding that one guy who will make all of their effort worth it. But they won't approach you, they want you to approach them."

"Things haven't changed that much then," Steve sighed, cringing internally. He hadn't shared his revelation with Carter, which had probably pushed him into doing this.

"A few of the bold ones will," he winked. "So you have to decide if you want the shy or the bold woman."

"How about neither?" Steve asked hopefully. "I'm not interested in dating anybody." He shifted in his chair, trying not to think about the fact that Peggy's grandson was attempting to set him up. It was bad enough when Bucky did it, but now this?

"Oh, bollocks. You can't stay hidden away in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s basement for the rest of your life. And besides, it's a date, not a marriage proposal. Here, watch." A blonde woman sashayed up to them and sat in the seat to Carter's right.

"Hi," she grinned. "I'm Anna, your hostess tonight."

"Hello Anna," Carter grinned, placing his arm over the back of the booth so it was above her shoulders. "My name is Carter, and this is my friend Steve. How are you this evening?"

"Great. Can I get you guys anything to start with?"

"Beer to begin with," Carter said, taking one of the menus from her hand and handing it to Steve before returning his gaze to Anna. "What's your recommendation?"

"Well, we've got…" she rambled off, listing their small beer option, "but we're mostly a champagne bar. We've got an awesome vintage selection."

"Vintage? Would you say you're a fan of vintage?" Carter asked, throwing a wink at Steve who blushed.

"Depends on what it is," Anna flirted.

"Hum… we were discussing champagne, right? Now, let's say you have two bottles, exact same brand but one's been sitting from 1987 and the other been chilled since 1919." Steve's ears turned red as he recognized the fake date on his driver's license and his actual birth year. "Which would you chose?"

"Oh, the 1919," Anna batted her eyes.

"The 1919," Carter smirked and slapped the table, giving Steve a significant look.

"Unfortunately, our oldest champagne only dates back to 1966," Anna continued.

"Damn," the agent laughed. "Well, I think I'll start with an Innis and Gunn. Steve?"

"Erm…" he looked at the menu again, not recognizing any of the beers. "A Palm Amber Ale."

"Would you like anything to eat?"

"Not at the moment," Carter replied. Anna nodded and smiled again.

"I'll be back with your beers." Steve sighed as Carter winked at her and, once she was gone, leaned towards him.

"Loosen up, man. It's flirting, not strategic warfare!"

"I'll take the strategic warfare," Steve groaned. Carter rolled his eyes and looked around the bar.

"Eleven o'clock. That girl is just begging you to go and chat her up." Steve shot a glance in the direction and saw a girl sitting on a barstool, taking a sip of her drink. When she saw Steve looking at her, she smiled and waved. If it were possible to blush and deeper, Steve did, and quickly turned away.

"I'm not interested, Carter. Can we just go?"

"No, Emily's not even arrived yet. Besides, you need to get out." Anna chose that moment to slide back into the seat beside Carter and set their beers in front of them. "Anna, darling, I was just telling to my friend here that he needs to get out more. A good looking guy like him shouldn't be cooped up at home all the time." The blonde grinned.

"I agree. This city doesn't have that many good looking guys, and here I am, lucky enough to have two sit in my section." For something to do, Steve took a sip of his beer and was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. He blocked out whatever Carter was saying and looked at his watch, wondering when Emily would finally get there and reel in their friend.

OOO

After applying mascara, Emily stepped back from the mirror and admired her handiwork. She had to admit to herself, she cleaned up pretty well, and the Internet tips on the 1940's make up were fantastic! (She wasn't bold enough to go with the 50's looks). Her hair had taken longer than expected, but it was well worth the effort, in her opinion. She'd even managed to find one of her old flower clips at the bottom of a box. And now for the pièce de résistance…

Emily turned and admired the way the dress hugged her. Part of her wished that she had a petticoat to go with it, just to give it the extra volume, but she pushed the thought away. The sweetheart neckline showed just enough cleavage to be sexy yet demure, and the hem reached mid-shin Grinning, she stepped into her 2 inch black heels and bent to fasten the straps. Em pawed through her jewelry box and retrieved her grandmother's pearl necklace, which fell to just above her collarbone. From her clutch, she retrieved her red lip tint, and once that was applied, hurried downstairs to flag a taxi.

OOO

"Now, our friend here," Carter clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder, now on his third beer and feeling quite bold, "is quite lonely." Steve nearly spat out his beer. "It's been a while since he's had a beautiful woman on his arm."

"Aw, poor baby," Anna cooed. "I'm sure you'll be able to find someone by the time you leave here tonight."

"Have you anyone in mind?" Carter prodded.

"Carter," Steve said sharply, "leave the woman alone."

"Don't worry about it, hon," Anna leaned forward against the table, making sure that her breasts, which were already near spilling out of her tight shirt, were shown in all their glory. "I'm having a good time." When Carter tugged on her sleeve and whispered something in her ear, Steve knew he was in trouble.

OOO

"Thanks," Emily said, handing over a few bills to the taxi driver. "Have a good night!"

"You too, ma'am," he said as she slid out of the back seat. As soon as she shut the door, he pulled away from the curb. Emily took a deep breath and smoothed down her dress, examining the club's façade. A sign above the dark metal door announced that she'd arrived at La Maison du Champagne. Through the glass, she spotted a yellow piano and chandeliers, as well as quite a well-dressed crowd. She sent a silent thanks to Carter again, as she'd planned on wearing a pencil skirt before getting the dress.

With another breath, Emily pulled open the door and looked around for Steve and Carter. She couldn't help but smile when she heard Fred Astaire's 'I Won't Dance' playing over the dull roar of the patrons. It coupled nicely with the upscale décor. For some reason, butterflies were dancing in her stomach, which was ridiculous, of course. It had only been a few days since she'd seen them.

And then finally, she spotted them at a table towards the back. Carter lifted a hand to wave her over, and Emily smiled and wove through the crowd.

OOO

"I'm off at one," Anna said, sliding her phone number towards Steve.

"Thank you," he gulped as she stood up and left the table. Steve resisted the urge to groan and put his head on the table as Carter laughed and clapped him on the back. This was definitely not something that he wanted to do. But it had been too hard to turn back once the woman had basically planned their first date, especially given that Carter had egged it on.

"There ya go, Stevie Boy! Your first date of this decade! You should be thanking me for setting that up," the Brit grinned and took a swig of his beer.

"I didn't want a date," Steve sighed. "I just wanted to have drinks with you and Emily tonight."

Carter shook his head and sighed, "You can't stand her up now. Besides, it'll do you good to be around more people than just Emily and me. Speak of the devil, there she is."

Steve turned around and had to keep his mouth from falling open. He stood up quickly as Emily arrived at their table, looking like she's stepped right out of one of his dance hall memories. "Hi," she said, smiling shyly.

OOO

"Welcome home," Carter said, standing up and hugging her tightly when Steve didn't say anything. "You look _ravishing_."

"Thanks," she said, but whispered in his ear, "Break into my apartment one more time, and I will kill you." Carter laughed and sat back down.

"You look…" Steve's voice trailed off, and Emily's smile faded a bit, and she began to debate whether the Victory curls were pushing it.

"It's too much, right? I mean, I didn't know what this dress code was and-"

"Amazing," Steve said finally. He smiled when it was she, rather than he, that blushed.

"Thank you. You too. Is that a new suit?" He looked down at his pressed white shirt and blue tie and nodded. Emily smiled again and adjusted the knot of his tie so that it was centered before sitting down and sliding towards Carter.

"I don't get a compliment?" he asked teasingly, causing Emily to roll her eyes.

"You look handsome as always, Agent Falsworth."

"Why thank you. Now, would you like to have a something while we finish our beers?"

"Isn't that the point of having drinks?" Emily raised an eyebrow, trying not to blush under Steve's continued gaze. Those damn butterflies were back in her stomach. A week away from him, and Emily felt like a teenager in front of her crush. It didn't help that something in Steve's gaze was…different.

"I merely meant before we have champagne," Carter corrected. "We are celebrating your return from Denver, are we not?" Emily sighed and plucked the menu out of Carter's hand as he began suggesting wines that she might enjoy. Once she'd made her selection, she motioned for him to move so she could make her way to the bar. "Absolutely not!" he declared. "I'm at your service tonight. Well, me and Anna," he wiggled his eyebrow at Steve. Emily looked between the two men, obviously missing something, but shook her head.

"Fine. I'm not going to have wine, I'm going to have Royal Fleur, please," Carter picked up her hand and kissed it before disappearing to the bar. "Has he been driving you crazy?" she asked Steve, folding her hands in her lap.

"What?" he asked, clearing his throat, "No, not really. It's been an interesting few days. How…how was Denver?" Emily flushed and shook her head.

"Interesting," she sighed. "My presentation went well but…" she trailed off, as thoughts of Dave came to mind. Em shook her head again and motioned to his beer. "Can I try it?"

"Yeah," he nudged the glass towards her and watched as she took a quick sip. That sad look had crossed her face for a split second before she'd asked for the beer.

"Mmm, that's good," she licked her lips and set the glass back in front of him. He noticed the red lipstick on the rim but didn't move to wipe it off. Then Carter appeared with Emily's drink.

"I propose a toast," the Brit said, raising his beer. "To successful endeavors, friendships, and budding romances." Emily furrowed her eyebrows at the last remark but raised her glass. "And to a night of drinking on the Falsworth tab!"

OOO

Emily pressed hand to her chest and wiped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes, gasping for breath as Carter regaled them with a story about a mission gone wrong. "So there I was," he continued, "down to my skivvies, hanging off a balcony while my target's husband demanded to know why she was so out of breath in bed." Steve blushed bright red as Emily clapped her hand to her mouth, aware that she had crossed the threshold to champagne giggles.

"What did she say?" she asked.

"'I was having a dream about running'." She bit her lip and shook her head, trying to regain some composure. Carter winked and refilled her champagne flute, setting the second empty bottle on the edge of the table, where a passing wait staff member promptly removed it. "Ok, last time you were naked in public," he pressed Emily.

"I went swimming in a fountain after going to a club. Honestly, it started out innocent enough," she assured them before taking a sip of champagne. She saw Steve raise an eyebrow and smile. "What? You try dancing in four-inch heels for hours and see how your feet like it. Was it my fault that my friend suggested swimming? Besides, I only took my shirt off. And kept my bra on," she added quickly, seeing Carter's expression.

"I'll take your word for it," Carter laughed when Steve shook his head. Then, without warning, the agent grabbed her hand. "Come on, Sweetheart. They're playing our song."

"I don't know how to dance to this," she said quickly, hearing the quick strains of Billy Haley & the Comet's cover of "Rip It Up". He shook his head and pulled her slightly so that she was at the edge of the booth.

"Tuesday night Swing Dance class." Emily's mouth fell open and she let him pull her to her feet.

"Again, how long were you watching me?" Emily asked. Carter only smiled and grabbed hold of her other hand.

"Try to keep up," he teased before quickly spinning her. Em couldn't help but laugh as he pulled her close, placing is hand on her back, and then they were spinning, kicking their feet in time with the music. When he let go of one of her hands, she spun and threw up her arm, grinning as she twisted her hips and knees and jumped slightly with the beat. He tugged on her arm and spun her back, and off they went again.

Steve watched the two, smiling to himself and the familiarity of the situation: him holding down the table while his friend danced with the pretty dame. Only this time it was Carter instead of Bucky. He grinned when he saw Emily laughing, and wasn't surprised to see the others vacating the floor, trying to escape their exuberant dancing.

"Ready?" Carter asked.

"No," Emily laughed as he spun her away.

"Jump," he ordered before tugging her back so that she spun quickly. Emily recognized the move and, before she could stop herself by thinking, jumped, bringing her knees to her chest. Carter caught her and held her for a moment before setting her back on the ground. Emily sank low and he yanked her back towards him before they continued to spin.

When the song ended, Steve wasn't the only one that started clapping. He watched as Emily blushed bright red and tried to escape to the table, but Carter pulled her close and whispered something in her ear before kissing her temple. She rolled her eyes and slapped his chest. The pair split up, with Carter heading to the bar and Emily trying to make her way back to the table. A few people stopped her to chat, but she quickly shook them off. "Wow," Steve grinned. Emily grinned back and collapsed into the booth before she took a long sip from her glass of champagne before fanning herself. "That was great!"

"Thanks," Emily laughed. "I haven't done that in forever."

"Didn't look that way from here," he said. Em blushed deeper and lifted her glass to her cheek, trying to cool down. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"The Dance 'til it Burns studio," Carter said, placing a glass in front of Emily and sliding into the seat next to her. Emily gawped at him for a moment before laughing.

"Wow, you really aren't a great spy, are you?" Carter raised an eyebrow as he took a long drink from his glass.

"Am I wrong?" he asked.

"Yes," she grinned victoriously. "I learned that from my Grandpère Charlie."

"Really?" Steve said, leaning across the table. His knee brushed hers under the table, and he felt her foot slide over to nudge his.

"Oh yeah. I saw him and Grandmère dancing at a wedding when I was a kid and cut in. 'Course I was only about five then, so I wasn't that great. When he died, my aunts and uncles made sure I knew how. And when I got to college and grad school, I used to go to Lindy Hops all the time. The question is, where did you learn how to dance," she turned to Carter.

"My mother," he said simply, giving them both a look that let them know he didn't want to discuss it. He looked like he wanted to pull her up to dance again when Danny and the Junior's "At the Hop" started to play but she waved him off.

"Wow, that was amazing," their hostess said as she popped up by their table. Emily noticed how Steve immediately stiffened and sat up straight. Carter began to chat her up as Emily people watched, her eyes finally drifting to Steve, who looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"Oh, I love this one!" Emily said suddenly. Steve looked at her and cocked his head before smiling. "You know it?"

"I heard it in England." Of course, Vera Lynn's "Auf Weidersehn, Sweetheart" had been popular back then.

"Perfect," she smiled before scooting closer to him. "Come on, Soldier, I want to dance."

"I-I don't dance," he said, shooting a look at her.

"It's a slow one," she replied, gently nudging his arm. "Come on, before the song is over!" Curiously, Emily caught him looking at the hostess before standing up and offering Emily his hand. She smiled and took it before he led her to the floor.

Steve smiled as he held her hand in his left and placed his right hand on her waist; Em placed her other hand on his arm. He knew that, compared to everyone else, he was a horrible dancer, never having gotten much practice. But Emily smiled up at him as they started to slowly move in time with the music. "See, not all that difficult," she said.

"My heart's racing a mile a minute," he admitted, leaning in close to whisper it in her ear. Emily's breath hitched and her hand tightened on his arm.

"It's supposed to be fun," she teased. He gave her a nervous smile, which made her laugh. "This can't be any worse than running headlong into a firefight."

"It actually is," he smirked. Emily shook her head and stepped close enough to lay her head on his shoulder; the movement caused Steve's hand to move to the small of her back, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Relax," she said quietly. She closed her eyes and let him lead. She could feel his breathing begin to slow and she smiled and looked up to meet Steve's gaze. Em smiled as he gripped her hand tighter and felt his thumb begin to stroke her back. When he rested his cheek on her head, she sighed, letting herself relax against him. She started to hum along to the song, and was surprised when he did too.

Steve looked down at the woman in his arms and his breath caught in his throat. He could smell Emily's shampoo, and feel her hot breath on his neck. Steve could almost picture them at the USO, dancing one last dance before he was shipped out again.

When the song ended, they were both reluctant to let go. It was Emily who, with eyes closed, forced herself to take a step back. "Thanks."

"It was my pleasure," Steve replied, reaching up to run a thumb across her jaw line. Em smiled before running her teeth over her bottom lip and shaking her head.

"Come on, let's get back to the table before Carter drinks the rest of the champagne.

OOO

"It was really nice of you to bring your sister tonight," the blonde said, leaning against the table.

"Sister?" Steve asked. "Emily? She's not my sister."

"Oh," the blonde giggled. "My bad. I just assumed-" Emily, who had been chatting with Carter, felt her cheeks burn at the insinuation.

"Well you know what assumed did," Emily spat. It was Anna's turn to flush as Emily motioned for Carter to move. "I need to use the restroom." One glance at Steve told her that he was confused with the entire situation, but Carter's eyes were twinkling with suppressed laughter.

She tried not to tense her shoulders as she dodged through the crowd, ignoring the few men that tried to talk to her. When Em finally reached the bathroom, she locked herself in a stall and stared at the ceiling, trying not to let the angry tears fall and ruin her mascara. It was stupid to get this upset, she scolded herself while tearing off a square of toilet paper and pressed it to her eyes.

Em knew that she wasn't the most attractive woman, by far. But honestly, to insinuate that she was too ugly to be anything but a sister to Carter or Steve? That they would only be with her because of familial obligation? After taking several calming breaths she walked back to her table and reached across Carter to her glass and downed the remaining contents.

"I'm really tired," she said, setting down her glass. Steve and Carter both looked at her with concern etched on their faces. "I'm going to head home."

"You just got here," Steve protested as Emily grabbed her clutch from the table.

"It's been a long few days," she sighed. The blonde's eyes narrowed slightly when Steve reached for her hand, but Em pulled away. "I'll see you later."

"Want me to drive you home?" Carter asked. Emily chuckled darkly and shook her head.

"Make sure _you_ get driven home."

"Yes, ma'am," he slurred. Emily was about to walk around him when he grabbed her arm and pulled her flush against his body.

"What are you-" Carter's lips crashed into Emily's. She stiffened in his grip, fighting the urge to slap him out of instinct. There was absolutely no denying it: Carter was a god at kissing.

"I think I'm ready to go home too," he said loudly before leaning into whisper in her ear, "What a bitch." Catching on, Emily grinned and pecked his cheek. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Steve had frozen.

"Your place or mine?" she purred, stroking the scruff on his cheek. Behind her, she could see the blonde's mouth fall open.

"Yours," he replied before pecking her lips again. "Just let me pay the tab." Emily squealed when he pinched her ass before swaggering to the bar. That, she decided was taking it a step too far.

"Wow," the blonde said, turning away from Steve and focusing her attention on Emily. "_You_ and him?" Emily bristled at her tone and forced herself not to throw the rest of her champagne at the woman's face. Instead, she shrugged nonchalantly.

Steve picked up his glass and knocked back the rest of the champagne. When Emily met his gaze, she was confused by what she saw in his eyes. The blonde, seeing what was passing between them, quickly thrust out her chest and leaned closer to Steve. "I'm really looking forward to our date." Emily felt her face go pale.

"What? Oh," Steve said, looking away from Emily. "Uh..."

"Ready?" Carter asked as he rejoined them. He wrapped an arm around Emily's waist and pulled her close to him. "Steve, I'll need my keys." Emily shook her head.

"We'll take a taxi."

"It's okay," Steve said. "I can drive you guys."

"But you're having such a good time," Carter wiggled an eyebrow and shot significant looks at the blonde woman, who giggled again.

"You don't mind, do you?" Steve asked her.

"Well…"

"It's settled then!" Carter slapped the table, causing the champagne bottle to jump. "We'll meet you outside Steve. Now, come along my little vixen," he purred at Emily who struggled not to roll her eyes. She was very aware of two sets of eyes on them as they walked out of the bar. Carter started laughing the moment the door swung shut.

"Thanks," Emily stepped out of his grasp and crossed her arms over her chest.

"God, did you see her face?" he managed to say. She rolled her eyes, her ego still hurting from the remarks. It only took another minute for Steve to walk out, sans blonde, thankfully. He looked between Emily and Carter, who had begun laughing again, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'll go get the car."

"Ok," Emily sighed, rubbing her arms against the chill. Steve saw this and shrugged out of his jacket.

"Here," he said, trying to drape it over her shoulders. Emily shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. Besides, we wouldn't want your _date_ to see." Steve flushed at her tone before shaking his head.

"I don't care. It's a jacket," he said before putting it on her. Emily huffed.

"You're both bloody idiots," Carter stated. Steve and Emily turned to face their friend who was now sitting on the sidewalk.

"Go get the car," Emily smirked. "I'll stay with him."

"You sure?" Steve asked. When she nodded, he took off at a jogging pace.

"Carter," Emily tutted, crouching down in front of him and pulling Steve's jacket closer to her body. His scent, a mix of Old Spice, soap, and sweat filled her nose, "What were you thinking?"

"That we could have another go at that kiss," he teased.

"I don't think so. And no pinching my ass ever again."

"You've got such a shapely one though," he grinned. Emily rolled her eyes.

"What's the story with the blonde?"

"I thought that our boy needed a bit of a nudge to see what was right in front of his eyes," Carter slurred. "So I played Wing Man and set him up with someone that would make him see it." Emily hung her head and covered her face with her hands.

"You couldn't have chosen someone more…" Emily hunted for right word.

"You?" Carter supplied, making her blush. "That wouldn't make him realize how much easier it would be with you."

"Conservative. I mean, her boobs were half out of her shirt!" He raised an eyebrow and pointed to her chest. Emily looked down and adjusted the sweetheart neckline. "Nowhere near as bad as hers. And I don't want to be the easy choice!" He was just about to say something when Steve pulled up in the BMW. Emily's thighs screamed with the effort it took to stand up straight, but she managed it as Steve pulled up to the curb and jumped out. "Come on, Carter," she sighed, holding out a hand.

"Fine, fine," the Brit sighed. He nearly pulled her off her feet, but they were standing when Steve managed to reach them.

OOO

"Bloody door," Carter groaned as he tried to unlock Emily's apartment. When he finally managed it, he stumbled in and held it open for Steve, who was carrying a nearly unconscious Emily. Without a word to the other man, Steve headed for her bedroom, stepping over discarded clothes and setting her on the bed. Emily groaned, her hands in loose fists by her face.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked while working on taking off her shoes. Emily shook her head. "Are you going to be sick?"

"No," she sighed, moving her hands to cover her eyes. Steve chuckled and, after depositing her shoes on the floor, sat beside her and tried to move her hands.

"Emily, what's wrong?" When she shook her head again, he sighed and leaned over her to kiss the tip of her nose, his hands on either side of her. "Emily…" she peaked out from under her hands, and he could see that she was close to crying. "Sweetheart, what is it?"

"I am so tired of men kissing me when I don't want them to," she said, covering her eyes again.

"Carter didn't mean anything by-"

"I know _he_ didn't," Emily said, her lips curving into a pout. It took Steve's brain a moment to realize what she was saying.

"What happened in Denver?" Emily groaned and rolled to press her face into the pillows. "Did your former fling try something?" Steve pressed. "Honey, look at me." After a moment, Emily turned and snuck a glance at him before nodding and pressing her eyes shut again. Steve's hands clenched into fists but he forced himself to breathe evenly. "Did he do anything…untoward?"

"Oh god, no," Emily said quickly, turning onto her back. "He tried, but I didn't let him," she blushed. When his jaw clenched, she wrapped her hands around his arms and squeezed slightly. "Steve, you're the only one I want to do anything with."

Steve was torn between wanting to strangle Emily's ex, and wanting to kiss her like crazy. So instead, he just sat there, feeling the warmth of her hands on his arms, and watching her eyes sweep across his face.

"And I feel like such a dirty hypocrite for not wanting you to go on a date with that bimbo Carter set you up with, because I went out with Josh. And if you want to play the field, you're more than welcome to. I mean, you need to figure out if I'm whom you actually want to be with. You should explore your options and-"

Emily stopped talking when Steve pressed a finger to her lips. "Emily Rose Harthorn," he chuckled. "You may be the smartest dame I've ever met, but you can be so thick sometimes. You are the only woman that I'm stuck on, and the only one that I want to spend time with." He moved his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb sweeping across her cheekbone. "I told Anna that I couldn't see her, because I already have a girl who caught my eye. And she's the only one that I want to go on dates with."

"I…Steve…" Emily grasped for something to say but her mind failed her. So instead, she grabbed hold of his tie and pulled him down towards her. But just before kissing him, she paused, her eyes shifting from his to her fingers curled around his tie. "Promise me you aren't with me because you can't be with Peggy. And that I'm not the easy choice because I'm the first woman you met when you woke up."

Steve frowned and tilted her chin up so that he could meet her eyes. "I won't lie, I loved Peggy," Emily tried to squirm away from him but he kept her pinned beneath him, "but I know that my feelings for you are a lot stronger. And what about getting to this point has been easy, Sweetheart?" Emily stopped struggling when he said, "I-I love you, Emily."

"I…you love me?"

"Yes," Steve grinned. "I love you, Emily Rose." When she pulled on his tie again, Steve didn't hesitate to lean down and kiss his girl, who was finally _his_ girl.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, really didn't expect the chapter to take this turn. It was going to be pushed off for a while. Also, if the tone feels a bit different, that's because a majority of it was written a LONG time ago, back when this was going to be the chapter where Steve realized he had more than friendly feelings for Em.

As always, thanks to **blown-transistor** for her help in reviewing this. And a major thank you to all of you! I didn't expect to hit 600+ reviews on the last chapter, but you guys are awesome =D

If you want to get some idea of Emily and Carter's dance, look up the Bill Haley & His Comets 'Rip It Up' from 'Don't Knock the Rock' on YouTube. Anyone remember when Steve and Emily went on their date to Wicked, and she said she didn't have a hobby, but mentally said that she did and it was too embarrassing to say on a first time out? Yeah, swing dancing was it.


	38. Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Seven

_I was made to keep your body warm_

_But I'm cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms_

_Oh no_

_My heart's against your chest, your lips pressed in my neck_

_I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet_

_And with this feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now_

_Kiss me like you wanna be loved_

_You wanna be loved_

_You wanna be loved_

_This feels like falling in love_

_Falling in love_

_We're falling in love_

_Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran_

* * *

_"You know, I still don't know how to dance," Steve said as his hands tightened on the yoke of the plane. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as the wind whistled through the broken window, lingering over where the skin had split. His heart was pounding in his chest, as if realizing that it had only seconds left to fulfill its job._

"_I'll show you how. Just be there," said Peggy. Steve swallowed at the lump in his throat and forced his voice to be calm as the ice rushed up to meet him._

"_We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your-" _

_Pain. Pain unlike anything Steve had felt in his life. The sound of glass breaking and metal crunching filled his ears as he'd been flung from the chair. Glass embedded itself in his body, making every small twitch ache. Dark spots danced before his eyes, getting larger with every passing second. _

_The cold water washed over him, pulling him further and further down into the darkness. He closed his eyes as hot blood hit his eyelashes. It hurt to breathe. _

_A crackle of the radio. "Steve?" Peggy implored. Steve's lips moved in a wordless reply. Darkness._

_The cold was gone. A beeping sound assaulted his ears, and Steve thought that, if this were actually Heaven, it wouldn't be so uncomfortable. _

_A voice. "God, he's so young." A woman. Not Peggy. She sounded sad. _

"_Twenty-five, if I recall correctly," a man said. "Of course, correcting for the time difference, I believe he's ninety-two." Steve wondered what he was talking about. Time difference? _

"_Can you imagine being in his position?" the woman spoke again. Steve tried to force his eyes open, wanting to assure her that he was all right, and that she needn't sound so worried about him. Angels shouldn't sound so upset._

_Something warm touched his hand, and he felt it being lifted. Small, shaking fingers glided across his palm before applying gentle pressure. The man spoke again after a long moment, but Steve didn't listen. He focused his attention on the feeling of the woman's hand on his. Warmth radiated from her touch. _

_The Angel spoke again. "The conference room, if you don't mind. I've got a lot more work left to do before our patient, as you called him, wakes up." She was leaving. Steve fought against the sirens call of the darkness, wanting see the Angel. If this was Heaven, shouldn't he see her? _

"_Yes, yes of course," the man agreed. She gently squeezed his hand, and then it was cold again as she released it. Rough material scraped his fingertips. As the voices retreated, Steve struggled, wanting to do make a noise, do anything that might make the Angel come back._

_His hand, rapidly losing the feeling of her touch, twitched. Steve waited, wondering if anyone was near. If she would come back. When he didn't hear anyone, he tried again. And again. And again. Before allowing the darkness to consume him._

_Anything to escape that beeping._

OOO

Emily smiled and lazily ran her fingers over Steve's arm, which was wrapped tightly around her. She could trace the vein from the back of his hand and up his arm until it veered off and curved towards her body. Instead of following it, she would continue the upwards assent, curling her finger under the cuff of his rolled up shirt and lightly tickle the crook of his elbow with the tip of her nail. If he felt it, Steve gave no indication.

He loved her.

A ridiculous smile spread across her lips as she buried her face in the pillow. The small movement cause Steve to redouble his hold on her, and Em allowed herself to be pulled back against his chest. However, just as she was about to fall back asleep, she felt Steve tense. Under her hand, she felt goose bumps raise on his arm. Confused, Em pulled the blanket higher around them and turned to face him.

Steve was breathing heavily through his nose, a grimace on his face. "Steve?" she said tentatively. His hands twitched on her back before fisting the silken material of her dress. The soft groan that he let out made her frown. "Shh, it's okay," Em whispered, swiping his hair from his face. When his teeth began to chatter, she rubbed his arms and made sure that he was fully covered. "_Mon coeur? Que rêve-tu?" _

She let out a breath when the grimace left Steve's face, and was replaced with a bemused one. He seemed to relax some as she continued to talk to him, gently reminding him that he was safe and sound in New York, in her apartment, in 2012. When Steve rolled onto his back, he half dragged Emily across him. Sighing, she propped herself up and blew her hair from her face. _"Il va être un bon jour, Steve, oui? Il fait du soleil. Nous allons bientôt en vacances. Tu as dit tu m'aimes…_"1

"Dia dhuit ar maidin," Steve said without opening his eyes; his hold on her dress lessened. Emily frowned.

"What?"

"Good morning."

"I thought you didn't speak Gaelic. Wait, that was Gaelic, right?"

"Yeah," he said, finally opening his blue eyes and smiling slightly. "My mother used to say it. So-" Steve pressed down on her back until Em was lying across his chest. Shaking her head, Em leaned down so that he could kiss her, "Dia dhuit ar maidin."

"_Bon matin."_ Grinning against his mouth, Em reached behind her and yanked the blanket up so that it covered them both. Steve chuckled and rolled the so that he hovered over her. The sheets twisted around them as Em laughed, her hands drifting down his sides to tug at the hem of his tucked in shirt. Much to her surprise, rather than stopping her, Steve buried his face in the curve of her neck, leaving a trail of kisses edged with teeth. She tried to stifle the moan as her hips twitched, making contact with the growing bulge in his slacks. When she hitched her leg on his hip, Steve smiled against her skin.

He kissed the underside of her jaw before placing a chaste kiss on Em's lips; Steve's skin was flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. As he pushed her hair from her face, his fingers catching on the bobby pins, a serious expression settled on his features. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and find out that this is just a dream," he said. "That I'm still on the plane, and my brain's just making you up." Emily half smiled, fingers hooked in his belt loops and thumbs stroking his skin.

"It's not going to happen," she assured him before shrugging. "And I don't think you'd make up someone who fights with you so much." His next kiss was slower, tinged with something, some memory he hadn't shared, and something else.

"I like fiery women," he finally said. Em raised an eyebrow, wondering how far this conversation would go.

"Oh?" Steve nodded, his right hand tracing her collarbone; his eyes studied the redden skin on her neck and chest, lingering where it met the pale skin of her bosom. "Peggy?" His eyes sought hers and he jerked a nod. Emily reached up to trap his hand against her breast, smiling slightly as his fingers twitched.

"You'd have liked her."

"From what I've heard, I'm sure I would. Were you…" Emily hesitated, moving a hand from his hip to his heart and gently drummed her fingers on it. "You must miss her."

Steve hesitated, wondering how much he should say. After all, Bucky had always told him that you don't talk about an old flame with your girl. And if anyone was going to have sound advice on women, it would have been Bucky. "I do," he said finally. "Not as much now, but I…" he pressed his lips together and furrowed his eyebrows.

"It doesn't go away, you know," Em stilled her fingers and then clarified. "Your first love. Part of you is always going to miss them. It just doesn't consume you like it did before. If you forgot about her, about everyone, I'd worry about you."

"Do you miss Garrett a lot?" She forced herself to meet his eyes nodded.

"At times. I'll see or do something that reminds me of him and it'll get bad for a while." Upon seeing the small 'v' appear between Steve's eyebrows, Emily shook her head and pulled him down for a kiss. "But I am all for making new, happy memories."

Steve looked at the woman lying underneath him and shook his head. "Someone up there's looking out for me."

"Huh?" she asked. He couldn't help but smile as he traced her bottom lip.

"I couldn't dream up anyone better than you." Had anyone else said those words to her, Emily would have laughed. But the sincerity shining in his blue eyes made Em's heart skip a beat.

"I thought you didn't like me when you woke up," Emily admitted, ducking her head. "You looked so…" Steve chuckled.

"I was confused. I didn't think angels cursed." He felt her cheek grow hot under his hand.

"What?" Steve ducked his head and rolled onto his side, pulling the covers off of them in the process, and stared at the ceiling. Unwilling to let the question go unanswered, Em followed his action, slipping her leg between his and placed her chin on his chest, looking expectantly at him.

"The first time I heard you speak, I thought I'd died. No, let me finish," he said when Emily opened her mouth. She pouted but pressed her lips together. "You were with Thompson, I think, and you were talking about me. And you touched my hand," Steve lifted his left hand and looked at it, as if recalling that moment. Biting her lip, Em reached up and intertwined their fingers. "Then you were gone. There was another time," he frowned in concentration. "You were asking me if I was listening, something about people in comas…"

"You heard that?" Em asked, thinking back to her one visit to Steve in the re-acclimation room. He nodded; her mind went to what else she might have rambled on about in her sleep-deprived state.

"Then you touched me again," he stated, squeezing their clasped hands. "And it was easier to hold on to that for a while. When I woke up, I thought I would see you but you weren't there."

"Thompson didn't want me to be," she said quickly. "He wanted a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in there, just in case-"

"I reacted like I did?" Steve gave her a bitter smile. "And when I did see you, you were wearing that uniform…"

"Not my idea," she interjected.

"I know, Doll," he smirked. Emily turned and pressed a kiss into the underside of his jaw.

"Still, I'm sorry." Steve shook his head and traced his thumb across her cheekbone.

"Don't be," he chuckled. "I think this turned out pretty well." Steve's hand drifted from her cheek to curl around her neck, and he gently pulled her down to kiss her. "I love you."

"Hmm," Emily hummed against his lips. She pushed herself up and straddled his hips, deepening what was an innocent kiss. Steve's hands automatically went to her waist and he groaned against her mouth as he felt her settle on him. His hip twitched upward and Emily gave a breathy gasp as the friction. Steve slid his hands down her thighs, and fisted in the skirt of her dress. The buttons of his shirt were quickly undone and Em pushed them aside, sighing in frustration at his undershirt. Honestly, the man wore too many layers!

As if reading her mind, Steve wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over before shrugging off his button up, tossing it to the side. Em bit her lip when he gave her that sexy little smirk before leaning down and tenderly kissing her. "Happy memories, right?" he asked.

"_Very _happy memories from here on out," Em assured him. "It's you and me, babe."

"You know that I'm not…I'm still working on getting right in the head…" Steve hung his head.

"Hey," Emily said, putting a hand on either side of his face and forcing him to meet her eyes. "We're going to get through it, ok? I'm not going to cut and run," she promised. "I'm in this for the long haul." Steve met her determined and nodded.

It wasn't the same as saying 'I love you', but he knew that's what she meant. Even as he kissed her, he could tell, even if she hadn't said the words. And for now, that was enough he thought as she tugged his undershirt over his head.

Em grinned at his ruffled hair and ran her fingers along his abdomen, marveling at the muscle definition as Steve nuzzled her neck. She felt him grin against her skin when she arched up against him after he'd licked over her pulse point. She turned to allow him better access as her fingers skated downwards and began to fiddle with his belt. Much to her surprise, he captured her hands in his and pinned them over his head. "Emily," Steve said warningly. His eyes darkened when he heard the little nose of complaint that she made.

"Steve," she whined, trying to free herself from his hold. Grinning, Steve swiped his tongue over the spot again before gently biting it. Beneath him, Em squirmed and bit her lip, and he watched as her neck and chest reddened, made him chuckle. "Playing dirty," she gasped as he kissed across her throat.

"You're the one who started it," he countered. "_Bon matin_,_"_ Steve said, attempting to mimic her accent.

"Oh, _mon dieu_, _Monsieur Rogers_," Her attempt at sarcasm was tempered by tremor in her voice. Steve groaned and released her hands, and Em wasted no time getting her revenge. She pushed him off of her and smirked before kissing him and ordering, "No touching." Steve raised an eyebrow as she straddled him again; she kissed his cheek before biting his gently biting his earlobe. He didn't even realize one of her hands had begun to tug down the zipper of her dress, but when he did, his hand shot out to stop her.

"Emily." His tone, which he'd obviously intended to be stern, was more flustered than anything.

"I thought I said no hands," she grinned. "You're not really good at this whole taking orders thing, are you?"

"You don't-"

SLAM!

Both Steve and Emily jumped at the sudden noise, their eyes shooting towards the closed bedroom door. "Carter," Steve said, sitting up and forcing Emily from his lap.

"Carter's here?" Em asked. And then she heard the tale-tell signs of a bad morning-after-drinking. Her own stomach clenched for a moment before she forced herself out of bed. "Poor guy," she sighed. Steve moved to do the same but stopped, glancing down at the covers before his already flushed skin darkened. Em tried, and failed, to suppress a smirk.

"Erm…" Steve said.

"I'll take care of Carter. You just relax," she winked before picking up his button up and pulling it over her dress. That sight did nothing to help with the relaxing. With a wink, Em opened her bedroom door and walked towards the kitchen doing a silent happy dance, swaying her hips and throwing her arms over her head. He had said that he _loved_ her. And had actually meant it, not in the 'I'm saying this in an attempt to get in your pants' way, but the 'I actually do love you' way.

After retrieving a glass, she walked back to the bathroom and gently tapped on the door. "Carter?"

"I'm fine," the gravelly voice of her favorite S.H.I.E.L.D. agent answered.

"I've got some water for you." When a fresh wave of retching met her ears, Em took a steeling breath and opened the door. Carter was hunched over the toilet, looking distinctly ruffled. After filling the glass with tap water, Em set it beside him and looked in the medicine cabinet for aspirin. With the bottle in hand, she saw on the edge of the bathtub and rubbed Carter's back, like her mother had done when she felt under the weather.

Once he'd finished and rinsed his mouth, Carter collapsed against Emily's legs. "Damn it all," he muttered as she shook out two aspirin tablets for him. He attempted to swallow them dry before giving up and taking a sip of water.

"Feeling any better?" she asked, gently kneading his shoulders.

"Marry me, woman," he groaned.

"It's not the best proposal I've had, but I'll consider it," Em teased. "Now, do you want to talk what's going on?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to celebrate your return." Carter closed his eyes and leaned into Em's touch, but grimaced when she began to work on a particularly large knot in his muscles.

"Liar." He looked up at her and attempted to raise an eyebrow, but in his hung over condition it looked more like a squint. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But I'm here if you want to talk."

"Rogers is a lucky man," Carter sighed.

OOO

"Dr. Thompson," Carter snapped, slamming the door of the psychologist's office on Monday morning. "A word, if you please."

"Dear lord, man," Thompson said, pressing a hand to his chest and looking up from his computer. Upon seeing the furious look on the agent's face, he raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Agent Falsworth?"

"You," he glowered, stalking towards the desk, "you and Kingston!"

"Ah," Thompson nodded, bringing his clasped hands to rest on his stomach. "Yes." Carter slammed his hands down on to the desk, causing Thompson's coffee cup to topple over; thankfully it was mostly empty. "Steady on!"

"You…you manipulated my medical clearance!"

"Manipulated? That's a rather strong word."

"Is it? What would you call blocking someone's ability to return to work until two people started dating? I'm an AGENT not a bloody MATCHMAKER!"

"Perhaps you should sit and we can discus-"

"There will be no discussion! You, you-" Carter jabbed his finger at him, "have abused your position. It is-"

"AGENT FALSWORTH!" Thompson snapped, standing up quickly. "Did you, or did you not, agree to do anything necessary to assist Captain Rogers in his rehabilitation?"

"I didn't mean getting him laid," Carter growled.

"Ah, is that what this is about? Now that Dr. Harthorn is with Captain Rogers, she is no longer available for-"

"No," he cut him off. "Absolutely not. This is about you jeopardizing my career."

"A career that might be cut short?" Thompson asked, sitting back down. "Agent Carter has infor-"

Carter stormed out of the room.

An hour later, he had been given orders to report to New Mexico for an undetermined amount of time.

OOO

"You're not coming?" Emily asked, sitting down heavily in one of the rolling chairs. Carter scowled and continued to pace the conference room.

"No," he said. "I'm sorry, but this came up at the last minute."

"Is…is everything okay?" The agent forced himself to stop walking and turned to face her.

"Fine, Emily. I'm just…this is probably for the best. It'd be impossible for me to continue my surveillance if your family knows who I am."

"You're still going to watch them?"

"For their safety."

"Is it really necessary?"

"Yes." She raised an eyebrow, letting him know that this discussion would be brought up again at another point. "You and Steve can go and have fun."

"Maybe we can go up another weekend," Emily suggested.

"Definitely," Carter nodded before walking around the table and opening his arms. "Just make sure you don't forget my half of Steve's gift."

"I won't," Emily sighed, stepping into his embrace. "You make sure to stay safe, ok? And let me know when you're on the way back."

"I will."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, so major apologies for the lapse in updating. The past few weeks have been hectic with classwork, work, and attempting get my internship stuff together. After this next week, updates will be more regular, I promise!

When Emily was speaking French, she said, "What are you dreaming?" and "It's going to be a good day, Steve, yes? The sun is shining. We're going on vacation soon. You said you love me..." The Gaelic comes from Google. Fingers crossed it's right!

So yes, this chapter goes back and dredges up a lot of stuff from the first few chapters. Hopefully you guys like it. Also, please don't hate me for doing that to Carter. He's got a secret that he's reluctant to share, but don't worry, you'll find it out! Unfortunately he won't be joining Steve and Em in Maine for the 4th of July.

Also, in the last chapter, I forgot to mention that bar they go to is based off of Winston's Champagne Bar in New York.

As always, thank you for reading (and your patience), and let me know what you think!


	39. Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Eight

_I guess I'll hang around a little while, while you here_

_No, I don't feel like being somewhere else_

_I guess I wouldn't mind to fall in love a little bit_

_Ouch, I think I fell a little more_

_Hanging onto nothing_

_I wouldn't change a thing_

_Stay where you are now_

_Oh no I've said too much_

_Got both feet in_

_My dear you fear too much_

_I'm just a little bit love ridden_

_I'm falling in to you_

_Tourist - Yuna_

* * *

"No, no, no!" Emily screeched, lunging for the trunk of the car as it sprang open. Steve frowned but removed his hand, wondering why his girl was suddenly acting so strange.

"Alright?" he said, confusion coloring his voice.

"My trunk is a mess," she said. "Some soda exploded and I haven't gotten around to cleaning it up. Put your bag on the back seat." Steve raised an eyebrow but tossed his duffel bag in the car before settling in the passengers seat. A moment later, Emily slide into the drivers seat and smiled at him. "Ready?"

"Yup. Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Em had been working most of the day, making sure that everything that needed to be done before going on vacation was done. Rather than taking an additional day off, she'd insisted on staying until 5 o'clock, so she would only need to take of Thursday and Friday for an entire week of Independence Day fun ("Steve, I just got back from a week off!").

"I'm good. Are you?"

To be honest, Steve was nervous. Not only was he going to meet his sweetheart's parents, but he was going to be staying in their home for nearly a week, and then he was going to meet the extended family! A small part of him had considered telling her that he wasn't able to go, but it had been silence when Carter had cancelled. Instead of saying this, Steve jerked a nod and slid the sunglasses Emily had bought him over his eyes. As if knowing he was lying, Em reached over and squeezed his leg before starting the car and pulling out of the parking spot.

OOO

Steve glanced over at Emily as she stifled another yawn. When she widened her eyes and blinked away the tears, he smirked. "I can drive if you want."

"No, I'm fine," Em replied before yawning again. They had been driving for hours, but with the holiday traffic, they'd only reached Massachusetts.

"Really, Emi-"

"I'm good, Steve, really," Emily smiled at him. "Besides, we're almost there."

"We've still got a while before Maine," Steve furrowed his eyebrows.

"We're going to my parent's house tonight. Mom wasn't too happy with our plans to drive straight through, so we're going to be staying the night there, then driving the last few hours in the morning."

"Oh." That was actually a bit of a relief, Steve though. He had at least one more day before meeting Emily's parents.

"I think it's an excuse, really. They probably forgot some stuff and want us to grab it," Em shrugged, slowing the car as they neared another tollbooth. After squinting at the price, she reached for the wad of bills she'd shoved into the dashboard. And, it was then, that Steve noticed it.

Emily's right hand was bare.

A smile spread quickly across his mouth as he continued to stare, wondering why he hadn't realized that her ring was missing earlier. A quick glance at her neck showed that the locket was absent as well.

"Thank you!" Emily said to the booth operator before rolling up the window. "Only an hour or so more and we'll be home."

"Okay," Steve grinned.

OOO

"Home, sweet home," Emily sighed as they stepped into the single-story home's mudroom. Steve followed her lead and toed off his shoes, nudging them against the wall. Her fingers scraped along the wall until she found the light switch, and flipped it up. The brass chandelier hanging over the kitchen table flared on, illuminating the large kitchen. To the right was the living room, and a hallway split off, presumably to the bedrooms.

"It's nice," he said, glancing around. Smiling, Steve set their bags on the ground and walked towards the fireplace, ignoring Emily's groan when she realized what he was looking at. There were pictures of the Harthorns at significant events, but the one that caught his eye was of Emily in a white cap and gown, proudly presenting her high school diploma. Her hair was much longer, falling well past her shoulders and slightly curled.

"I wish they'd take that down," Em sighed. Steve chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him and kissing her temple.

"It's a good picture." He gently tugged on her hair and smiled. "I like your hair long."

"It was such a pain to deal with," Em shrugged, turning to snuggle against Steve's chest as she yawned, closing her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. They stood there for a while, and he took the opportunity to look at the other pictures. A young Emily stood beside her brother at his graduation, her hair in a frizzy bob and her front tooth missing. He grinned when he saw picture were she couldn't be more than four years old, standing on her father's feet as they danced. She was wearing a black and white polka dotted dress and black tights, hair pulled back in a red ribbon.

"You were a cute kid," Steve chuckled. Emily moaned and furrowed her eyebrows.

"S'op looking at the pictures," she sighed. " 'Ey're embarrassing."

"Let's get you to bed." Emily hummed her approval but didn't open her eyes. She did smile, however, when Steve's stomach grumbled loudly. Her cheek scraped against his shirt as she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow; Steve blushed.

"On second though, dinner sounds like a plan."

"We don't have to," Steve said. Em took a deep breath and shook her head, forcing herself to leave the comfort of his arms.

"I'll dig something out of the freezer." Once the frozen pizza had been tossed in the oven, they both settled down on the couch to watch the news. Emily sat sideways, her legs draped over Steve's lap. He wasn't surprised when she dozed off. She slept through the oven buzzer going off, and only when he tried to move without waking her did Em hear it. "Got it," she mumbled.

Only a few bits into her slice of pizza, Em fell asleep again. Steve ate a few pieces more before getting up to clean the kitchen. Once that was done, he changed into his sleeping clothes before gently shaking her awake. "Sweetheart?" He chuckled when she slapped his hand away and turned to bury her face in the couch. "Honey?" Emily groaned. "Why don't you go to bed?" It took a bit more prodding for her to finally stand up and Steve walked her down the hallway, her bag in his hand.

While Emily changed in the bathroom, Steve looked around her bedroom. He ran his finger over the spines of the well-worn books on her bookshelf, looked over the pictures stuck to the pin board, and glanced at the papers stacked on the desk. When he heard her padding back up the hallway, Steve sat on the edge of her full sized bed. Emily stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes half closed and dressed in black shorts and a red shirt, her hair thrown into a messy bun. Grinning, Steve stood and opened his arms to her and Em walked over and kissed him. "Heads up, my bed is very comfortable. Like, sleeping on a cloud comfortable."

"I'm just tucking you in. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Absolutely not," Emily said, tilting his chin up so he'd meet her eyes.

"It's your parent's house," Steve sighed.

"And they're not here. Besides, we're both adults." He smirked and stood up, placing a kiss on her forehead before turning to pull back the covers. When he turned around, however, Emily was walking out of the room.

"Hey!" Steve chuckled, darting after her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her off the floor. She laughed while pushing against his arms; Steve kissed her shoulder as he walked back towards her bedroom.

"You're not sleeping on the couch," Emily stated when he set her down beside the bed. When he started to protest, she rolled her eyes. "I was getting stuff for the futon in Dad's office. Tuck used to use it when he was home from college."

"Oh," Steve chuckled.

"It's less comfortable than my bed."

"I can handle it for one night." Emily rolled her eyes before standing on her toes to kiss him. A few minutes later, they'd made the futon into an uncomfortable bed ("Don't complain when your back hurts in the morning!"), and Steve walked her to her room and kissed her goodnight.

OOO

Steve's eyes shot open and he lurched upright. Bile rose in his mouth as he tried to clear the stench of gunpowder and blood from his nose. He breathed quickly, eyes shooting around the room. He grabbed at the glass of water sitting on the floor beside the bed, and it helped to lessen the urge to vomit. After setting the glass back down, he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub out the image of men who had died decades before.

There was a muffled bump, and he whipped his head up while throwing off the covers. Someone was in the house. His heart was thudding, mind automatically latching onto the fact that Emily's bedroom was closer to the front door than where he was.

As quietly as possible, Steve opened the door and crept out into the hallway, hugging the wall. As he approached Emily's room, he saw that the door was cracked open; that was odd in and of itself, because she always made sure the door was closed when she slept. "Emily?" When there was no answer, he nudged it open with his foot, peeking inside. "Emily?" he whispered again. Her bed was empty.

There was another bang from above, and he looked up at the ceiling, his hand reaching for his gun strapped to his thigh. It closed on air, and he realized that he'd be taking on whoever was there as Steve Rogers, not Captain America.

The hallway seemed immense as he walked it, making sure that his footfalls didn't make noise. He peeked around corners and jerked his head back quickly, half expecting a gunshot or someone to yell. The corner of his mind brought up images of Emily being hurt, or worse, dead. It was irrational, but the thought made his heart gallop, and he frantically looked around again.

He'd checked almost the entire house, and hadn't found anything out of place. But he also hadn't found Emily. Steve looked out the kitchen window and saw that her car was still there. It was only when he made the decision to go outside and look for any sign of her that he noticed something: a ladder extending from a hole in the ceiling in the mudroom. He hurried to it and quickly scaled the rungs.

There she was, illuminated by a flashlight beam. "Emily," he let out a breath he'd been holding since waking up.

"Eep!" Emily shrieked, jumping. There was a slight crash, and the flashlight flickered out. "Ouch! Fuck!" Steve pulled himself up into the attic and hurried to her side, bumping into a few things along the way and stumbling in the dark.

"You okay?" he asked, finally arriving to where Em was laying, flashlight now back in hand.

"Freaking photo bins," Em huffed, rubbing the back of her head where the plastic tub had hit her. Steve grabbed her hand and yanked her to her feet before crushing her to his chest. "Can't. Breathe," she gasped, arms awkwardly pinned between them.

"Sorry," he said, loosening his grip. Steve kissed the side of her head before finally letting go. Even then, his hand rested on her hip. Emily pointed the flashlight up at the ceiling and frowned upon seeing his expression.

"Nightmare?" Steve shook his head and glanced around the attic. He didn't want to talk about it.

"What are you doing up here in the dark?" Em raised an eyebrow, seeing the obvious lie, but allowed him to change the subject.

"I got my second wind and decided to come up and see if I could find any of Grandmère Brigitte's stuff. I mean," Emily shook her head slightly, "Ingrid." She let out a sigh and glanced down at the bunch of photos she'd been looking through. After squeezing Steve's hand, she sat down and picked up the bundle again before patting the floor beside her. He waited for a moment and then sat beside her, taking the flashlight she offered. "The light's burnt out," she explained, jerking her head towards the exposed bulb right above the ladder.

Steve wrapped his free arm around Emily's shoulder, and she leaned into him. Her elbow rested on his thigh as she held the pictures closer to the light. Most were old, faded black and white photos, the edges yellowed with time. Every once in a while, she would find a newspaper clipping, and they both scanned the article for what could have made it worth saving.

When Emily gasped, he knew that she'd found what she had been searching for. When she held it up for him to see, he knew why. There was a younger Dr. Erskine standing next to the woman he'd seen in the various snap shots. Erskine's hand was holding Ingrid's, and she was leaning against her husband, smiling almost shyly at the camera, a small bouquet in her free hand. The white dress she wore hit her ankles, and the veil reached far down her back.

Emily rested her head on Steve's shoulder and fought a losing battle to holding in her tears. As they zigzagged down her cheeks, she finally admitted defeat. Even after all this time, she'd held out some hope that maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. had been wrong, that she hadn't been related to the famed Dr. Erskine. But here was the physical proof. Her grandfather hasn't been Josef Reinstein, a medical doctor who was killed in a car accident. Her whole life, her mother's life, had been built on that lie.

She allowed her mind to wander to what might have been if Erskine, her Opa1, hadn't been killed. Em tried to conjure the image of Opa Abraham at Christmas, laughingly handing out presents, or at elementary school plays, glowing with pride. But it was hard, much harder than she would have thought, to build a life off of a picture.

The weak images she held were quickly washed away and replaced with Grandpère Charlie, his brown eyes crinkling with laughter as she showed him exactly how long she could hula hoop while twirling a baton. At how happy he'd been to sit in his favorite rocking chair and reading her book after book, or correcting her childish French. How Grandpère Charlie would walk into the kitchen and pull Grandmère Brigitte away from cleaning dishes to dance to their song, La Vie en Rose. And how he would always call Grandmère Brigitte his Rose.

"You know, I'm named for her," Emily said thickly. Steve squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "My Grandpère would always call Grandmère Brigitte his Rose. And he would call me '_Ma petite Rose'_. Never Emily, just his little Rose."

"That's nice," Steve said, clearly at a loss of words.

"He used to make me the best fluffer-nutter sandwiches after school, and then we'd watch his old Westerns." Her mouth salivated at the thought of the peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches. "After we moved here, Grandpère would call me when I got home, and we'd talk while we each made a sandwich. And then I'd lie and say that I was watching Bat Masterson, when I was really watching cartoons." Steve smiled sadly. He watched as she gently stroked the edge of the photo. She seemed to shake herself, and placed the picture on her knee before reaching up and wiping her face again. "Sorry, it's stupid. I shouldn't be getting this emotional."

"Hey," he said, gently turning her to face him, "it's not stupid."

"It's just…I should have know, there shouldn't have been any doubt. I mean, General Sanders even called Grandmère _Rose_ when he told me about all of this," she motioned to the picture.

But Steve had frozen, barely hearing the rest of what she said. Sanders had used Emily's grandmother's nickname? His grip tightened on her as anger and panic flooded his system. His racing mind tried to figure out why Sanders would use that name, rather than the legal one, when telling Emily. To frighten? From what Carter had told him of the encounter, the General had been attempting to gain her trust. It would have been counter-intuitive. The only other reason would be familiarity, Steve reasoned. Much like how Carter had continuously demonstrated his intimate knowledge of Emily's life when they'd first met: her coffee order, friends, lovers, exactly how to make her angry… Steve's eyes darted around the darkened attic, as if expecting Sanders and his squadron to magically appear and take Emily from him. They were dangerous, and had already proven that they would do what they wanted in order to manipulate him.

And if they had Emily, there was nothing he wouldn't do to get her back.

"Steve?" Emily said tentatively as she pulled away from him, and it took him a moment to realize she'd been calling him back to reality. "Steve?"

"Hmm?" he asked, drawing her back in. With his thumb, he wiped away her tears before kissing her forehead.

"What was he like?"

"Dr. Erskine?" She nodded, and the tears clinging to her eyelashes momentarily distracted Steve. And then he realized that he really didn't have a way to describe him. While he had been personally responsible for him getting into the military, they hadn't spent much time together once he'd gotten to boot camp. And then right after he procedure, he'd been killed. "He was one of the smartest men I ever met," Steve said lamely, latching onto anything that he could say.

Emily gave a weak giggle, "That's saying a lot, seeing as how you've met Howard Stark." Chuckling, Steve pushed her hair behind her ear and trailed his hand down her neck.

"Howard was a character," he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up. "But your grandfather was the one that figured out the formula. And he was incredibly brave. He stood up to Schmidt when he wanted the formula for himself." Her eyebrows rose slightly, and Steve recounted the story Erskine had told him the night before he'd been killed.

"Wow," Em said softly. Steve nodded.

"He saw something in me, and he gave me a chance to do what I'd always wanted. And for that, I owe him everything."

"He admired you," Em said, lowering her eyes. "In his journal, he wrote about how pure your heart is, and he hadn't expected to find to find someone like you." Steve smiled, thinking about the two translated passages that she'd given him before.

"You remind me of him sometimes. When you really concentrate on something, you get this look on your face that he had. And you're kind, and generous, and see the best in people even when they don't see it themselves." Even in the dim light, he could see the blush that bloomed on her cheeks, and she turned away, unable to meet his gaze. Shaking his head, Steve picked up her right hand and brought it to his lips, kissing where her ring usually sat, and Emily's eyes darted to meet his. "I love you, Emily."

"I love you too, Steve." He smiled and took her chin in his hand, pulling her closer. She shifted, and tilted her head as he kissed her. It was sweet, and he could taste the saltiness of her tears on her lips.

"Come on, let's go back to bed," he said when they broke apart. When she nodded, he stood up and offered her his hand. She hesitated a moment before looked at the picture in her hand, and then placed it back in the photo bin and replacing the cap. Em then slipped her hand into Steve and let him pull her to her feet. Steve had to crouch slightly as to not hit his head on the roof, and he held the flashlight up so that she could see the rungs of the ladder as she climbed down. Once he was on the floor, Em folded up the ladder and held onto the small string as it folded back into the ceiling, concealed by a panel.

Rather than going back into Tuck's old room, Steve slept in Emily's bed.

OOO

Steve groaned as Emily shifted, and then there was a cold draft as she lifted the blanket. "Sorry," she said softly, kissing his cheek. "Go back to sleep." He shook his head and buried his face into the pillow, trying to pull her back down as well. Emily chuckled and pushed away his arm. "Relax, I'm just going to start the coffee."

He must have dozed off again, but even then Emily hadn't come back to bed. When he rolled onto his back, he looked around the room before sitting on the edge of the bed and stretching. It took a minute to realize what he was smelling.

"Ouch!" Emily hissed, jumping back from the stove as the bacon popped again.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, making her spin around, tongs in hand.

"You're not supposed to be up yet!" she whined. His eyes darted around the kitchen, and he saw that she was cooking breakfast. A stack on pancakes were sitting beside the stove, and a package of English muffins were by the toaster. But what made him pause were the wrapped packages on the table. "Happy Birthday!" Em said brightly, following his gaze.

"Thanks," Steve said, his cheeks going slightly red. He hadn't expected anyone to remember his birthday, let alone get him anything. But there were three wrapped presents and two bags, along with a few colorful envelopes. His attention was drawn back to Emily as she hissed again, angrily wiping at her arm where bacon grease had hit her. "Here, let m-"

"Back off, Rogers," Em said, brandishing the tongs at him. "You make your coffee and sit down and let me make you breakfast."

"Are you su-?"

"Coffee. Relax. I want to do this by myself," she stated. "Besides, enjoy this, because I don't really cook that much and it might be the only time you get a hot meal from me." Steve laughed and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her from the stoves.

"Feeling better?" he asked after kissing her good morning.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "It was just a lot to take in." He nodded and kissed her again before snagging a piece of bacon off of the plate. "I said coffee, not bacon!" Emily chuckled, slapping his hand as he tried for a second piece.

Laughing, Steve settled down at the table with his mug of coffee and watched as his girl bustled around the kitchen. He smirked slightly when she stood on her toes to reach something in a cabinet, and found himself admiring the effect it had on her legs. Emily hummed to herself as she worked, stopping only to ask him how he liked his eggs. When she ordered him to look away, he obliged and turned to look into the living room.

"Happy Birthday, Steve," she said, setting a place piled high with eggs, bacon, pancakes, and English muffins in front of him. Arranged on the pancakes were lit candles, and Steve smiled up at her. "Don't expect me to sing," Em said quickly. Chortling, Steve wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her until she was sitting on his lap. "Make a wish and blow out the candles before you get wax all over the pancakes!"

Steve thought for a minute before closing his eyes and blowing them out. He couldn't help the loud laugh he gave when Emily clapped her hands and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you."

"Twenty-six," Em smirked. "I'm such a cradle robber."

"More like ninety-three," he corrected. "So I think I'm the one robbing the cradle."

"You know," Emily said, placing the tip of her finger on her lower lip and giving him a thoughtful look, "there's a retirement home up the road if you want to go find someone more age appropriate." Steve's mouth fell open before he laughed, squeezing Em's sides where he knew she was ticklish. He reveled in the little squeal she gave while trying to escape his hold.

"Say 'Uncle'!" he said between laughs.

"Uncle!" she gasped. "I gi-give!" With one last squeeze for good measure, Steve halted his assault. "For that, I'm going to make sure that my whole family knows it's your birthday, so you get tons of birthday punches." With that, she gently punched his shoulder, "One down, twenty-six to go."

"Hey! I only get twenty-six," Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder. Emily smirked and kissed him before standing up.

"One for every year, and another for luck. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

"Yes, Ma'am," Steve said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. While he worked on clearing his plate, Emily made her much smaller one, and then carried it to the table where she sat beside him. "How long were you planning this?" Steve asked, his hand sliding across the table to squeeze hers.

"A few weeks," Emily shrugged. "Carter and I thought it might be nice for you to have a quiet birthday morning before meeting my family."

"Carter knew about it?" Em speared a piece of pancake and nodded.

"He was really disappointed when he couldn't come. According to Darcy, he's been moping around Puerto Antigua since he got there. But we'll all so do something together when he gets back." Steve nodded. When his plate was cleared, Em pushed him into getting another, and Steve ate until he was actually full (which was no mean feat). Like a little kid, his eyes kept being drawn to the presents, and it was only after Emily had cleared the dishes off the table (he'd offered to help but she waved him off) that he was finally allowed to unwrap them. "Ok, cards first."

Steve reached for the first envelope and read the birthday message on the front and inside, pausing when he reached the signature. Gabe. He's scrawled another paragraph about how happy he was to have seen him again, and that he and Emily should come visit again soon. When Steve looked up from the card, he saw his girl beaming. After rereading the message again, Steve reached for another card.

Dugan. A picture slid out as Steve opened the card, and he paused to look at the candid photo of himself and Emily from their visit to his house. She was sitting at the picnic table and leaning back against him with her head tipped up, and he had his hand on her shoulder looking down at her. If memory served right, Steve smiled while handing her the picture, that was right before she'd done the hula hoop. Dugan had written that he was looking forward to having another beer together.

The third card was, surprisingly, from Emily's parents. She shrugged when he raised an eyebrow. He smiled, reading the brief 'Can't wait to meet you soon' and 'Best wishes'.

"Ok, so I think you should do this one next," Emily said, reaching for one of the packages. A white card was taped to the top, and he pulled it off. When he went to read the inside of it, however, he froze.

_Captain Rogers,_

_I cannot express how happy I was when my grandson told me that they had not only found you, but that you had somehow managed to survive. My dearest hope is that you are finding this transition easy. While I have not met Dr. Harthorn myself, my son, Brian, Carter, and even Sharon speak most highly of her. _

_I know you must have many questions as to what transpired after your plane went down. Please know that we searched for you, and that you were never forgotten. But as time passed, we knew that we had to move on. I had never expected Peggy to return my affection, but after nearly two years of friendship and talking, we married. While I understand your resentment of me, please know that Peggy lived a happy life, full of love and laughter. She never forgot you, nor did I ever expect her to. _

_While your Commandos are now old men, you are still in your youth. Cherish the time you have, as I have cherished your friendship._

_Happy Birthday,_

_James Falsworth_

Steve gulped, his hands shaking slightly as he looked over the unsteady writing. Emily reached over and put her hand on his forearm, biting her lower lip and looking anxious. He set the card on the table and covered her hand with his. After a moment, Steve reached for the present and unwrapped it.

There was a picture of his Commandos, huddled around a fire. Steve tried to remember exactly where it was taken, and he vaguely remembered a combat cameraman had found them in a town they'd just liberated. It had been a long day, and the team had wanted to collapse with exhaustion. Instead, they'd sat around the fire and talked about what they missed from home, joking and teasing one another for their answers. Steve's eyes darted around the picture, taking in Morita's wide grin, Dernier's head thrown back with laughter. Bucky was beside him, slapping him on the shoulder as Steve ducked his head. Dum Dum and Gabe were tending to the fire, both smiling.

He chuckled and turned the picture so that Emily could see it as he crumpled the wrapping paper. Shaking his head, he set the paper aside and leaned back in the chair. When Emily sighed, he turned to face her. "Ok, so my present nowhere near stacks up to this one," she smirked, pushing the smaller of the two bags towards him. After removing the tissue paper, he reached in and pulled out a new sketchbook and set of charcoal pencils. There was a mahogany box as well, which he assumed was to place his pencils in.

"Thank you," he grinned, leaning over to kiss her. Emily gave him a quick peck before looking over the other presents.

"Hmm, ok, we'll do these next. This one is from Carter." She pointed to the largest of the three wrapped gifts and grinned. It was somewhat heavy and very sturdy under his hand. When the paper was peeled back, he stared at a large metal box.

"He…" Steve tried to form a sentence as his thumbs flipped open the two clasps. Slowly, he raised the lid and looked at the portable phonograph. He'd seen pictures of them in magazines when he was a kid, but had never even dreamed of being able to afford one. His fingers slid across the smooth aluminum. It was in perfect condition.

"I got you these to go with it. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a bit of everything. I can show you where the shop is when we get back," Em said, moving the second bag towards him. There were at least fifteen records in it, and he looked from the two gifts to his girl, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her hard.

"Thank you," he said, finally letting her up for air. Emily laughed.

"I only got the records. The rest is all Carter."

"I love it," Steve said, turning to lift the records out of the bag. He quickly looked through them, seeing that she'd gotten him Glen Miller, Martha Tilton, Bing Crosby, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzerald, Fred Astaire, Duke Ellington, the Andrews Sisters, Vera Lynn, Benny Goodman, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, Jo Stafford, Edith Piaf, Bobby Darin, and Woody Herman. Steve had just picked out a record, and was removing it from the sleeve when Emily stopped him.

"Wait! You've got one more to open!" She handed him the smallest package and bit her lip, blushing slightly as he unwrapped it to reveal a small velvet box. He opened it and saw a silver Saint Michael medal. He looked up to meet her nervous gaze and smiled. "He's the for-"

"Protection," Steve said.

"I wasn't sure if I should get you Saint Michael, or Christopher, or George, so I-" Steve cut her off by kissing her again. This time it was gentle, and he lifted her off of her feet, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Without setting her down, he said, "It's perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he repeated, finally letting her down. He struggled with the clasp for a minute before Emily took over and did it for him, and he lifted the medal, examining it. With a smile and a shake of his head, he let if fall back onto his chest. Emily smiled and gave him a wink before starting to pick up the kitchen, tossing pans into the sink and wrapping up the left over food.

Steve flipped through the records and picked one. It took a minute to get the needle screwed in before he put the record on the turntable. He turned the crank before lowering the soundbox onto the record and nudging it gently. There was a slight crackle and pop sound, but then the opening strings of 'Moonlight Serenade' filled the kitchen.

Emily gasped when Steve spun her around and took the dirty plates out of her hand, placing them back on the counter. "Steve, what are you-?" She said as he took her left hand and places it on his shoulder, and took her right hand in his. Smiling, he pulled her close and took a step towards her, forcing her to step backwards. He led her in the basic steps that he knew, dancing her around the kitchen.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, long chapter guys. I wanted this to be a thank you for being so patient with me over the last month. I'm finally done with school, so I should be back to more regular updates. A special thanks to **blown-transistor** and **pizzagirl** for helping me out with this one.

A few things. 'Opa' means Grandfather in German. I felt like Emily needed to find her own proof of her relationship to Erskine, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so. And Falsworth's card was necessary. He hasn't been addressed, and it's about time he was. I hope you liked Steve's gifts, because they were kind of hard to come up with.

Ok, to be honest, my favorite part of the whole story was Steve dancing with Emily in the kitchen. I love the symmetry of her Grandpère dancing with her Grandmère.

Also, if you haven't seen it already, I'm currently working on another fic called 'Baby, It's Cold Outside'. I'm attempting to write a chapter a day for the 12 Days of Christmas. The first two chapters are Emily and Steve (and one I think will make you very happy, lol), but the other Avengers will be making appearances as well. And if, for some reason, you feel like following me on Tumblr, I'm new on the site as well. My page is trick - photography 1 . tumblr . com (removing the spaces). Not sure what I'll be doing on there, but yeah...

As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!


	40. Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

_I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart_  
_I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweet (Ho!)_

_Ho Hey - The Lumineers_

* * *

"Almost ready?" Emily called from the bathroom while attempting to wrangle her hair into something cute. With an exasperated sigh, she flung the comb down on the sink and gave up. After quickly rummaging through her toiletry bag, she slid a red ribbon headband into her hair and stepped back to examine her appearance. The navy skirt fell to just above her knees, and the white polka dotted blouse was tucked into it, concealed by a wide brown belt. With the ribbon, she looked suitably patriotic.

"Everything's back in the car," Steve said, leaning against the doorframe. "So much for that spilled soda." Emily met his gaze in the mirror, her smile reflecting his.

"I couldn't have you snooping and finding your presents." He laughed as she tossed her things back into the bag, only stopping when his hands curled around her shoulders. Steve pushed her hair over one shoulder before tying the ribbon on the back of her shirt.

"Didn't you wear this when we went to see _Wicked_?"

"Did I?" she asked, her voice hitched slightly as Steve trailed his fingers down her sides before encircling her waist and pulled her against his chest. Em relaxed against him, closing her eyes and enjoying the way his breath ruffled her hair slightly. He, however, looked at their reflection, wondering at how he had been so lucky to find someone like her.

"Mmhmm" he hummed in her ear before kissing her neck. "Thank you. For everything." Emily wrapped her hand around his neck, her fingers playing with the short hair there, and leaned back to press her lips the underside of his jaw.

"You're welcome." He quick smile flitted across his mouth and spun her around and tipped her chin up to kiss her full on the lips while crowding her back against the sink. When her hips hit it, he lifted her on to it, perched on the edge, and stepped between her legs. Emily gasped as Steve gently bit her lip, looking her square in the eyes as he did so. She felt heat pool between her legs as he buried one hand in her hair, the other sliding down to rest on her thigh.

"I love you," Steve said against her skin as he gently tugged her hair. Emily arched back, placing a hand on either side of the sink. Her breathing hitched as he kissed her chin and then mouthed down her throat, teeth grazing her skin. When he reached the hollow at the base of her throat, his tongue darted out to taste her, and Emily moaned, her hips twitching upward. Her knees clinched around his hips. She could feel him smile against her skin as he slowly kissed lower, stopping when he reached the top of her cleavage.

"Steve," Emily moaned. His breath was hot against her breasts, and her whole body was humming with anticipation. It didn't help when he dragged the tip of his nose up throat before reclaiming her mouth with a hungry kiss. It was all tongues and teeth, and Steve pulled her closer, until she was sitting on the very edge of the sink. He tugged the hem of her skirt up. "Steve, stop, stop."

He pulled away, furrowing his eyebrows. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"What? No!" Em said quickly, pulling him in for a kiss. "It's just, as much as I want to do this, and believe me, I _really _want to do this, my family's waiting for us."

As if on queue, the house phone started ringing. Em leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Steve's shoulder, and he chuckled, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers. When the answering machine picked up, they both heard, "Emmie, I really hope I caught you before you left. We forgot a few things and are hoping you can bring them up with you. Ok, here's the list…"

"See?" Emily sighed.

"It's probably for the better," Steve said, pressing his lips against her hair.

"Yeah?" she asked, reaching down to palm his erection. He let out a shuddering breath as he ground against her hand.

"Can't," he panted, catching her hand as it reached for the button of his pants.

"We've got time for something quick." Steve shook his head, biting his lip. When Emily pouted, he cupped her chin and kissed her.

"You're family's waiting."

"I should have kept my mouth shut," she sighed, sliding off the sink. Steve groaned as her body pressed against his, his hips twitching against her. "You sure you don't…?"

"I've got it."

"Just call me if you need an extra hand," Em winked, gently pushing him away. "Oh," she spun around just before reaching the door and swatted his backside.

"Hey!"

"Two down, twenty-five to go! Oh, and remind me to tell you about bikinis on the way up."

OOO

"Ok, I just want to warn you," Emily said she pulled drove the car off the smooth pavement and onto a bumpy dirt road. "The last time I was up here was right after Garrett died. So there's probably going to be a bunch of comments about that."

"Oh, okay," Steve said, throwing his hand up and stabilizing himself against the ceiling.

"Also, my family is very loud. And sometimes inappropriate."

"Ok," he said, sounding nervous.

"Don't worry, they're going to love you," Em added quickly, glancing over at him. She parked the car under a pine tree and turned to face him. "Just be yourself and it'll be fine." He smiled nervously when she leaned over to give him a quick peck. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," he replied. They got out of the car and the sound of kids screaming and the dull roar of a large crowd met their ears. Em grabbed his hand, a grin spreading across her lips, and pulled him towards the split level log cabin. Just before opening the front door, she looked up at him and squeezed his hand.

"Hello!" Em called, stepping into the house. When no one heard her over the loud talking, she pulled him towards the kitchen. "What the hell kind of welcome is that?" Em asked, and it sounded like a bomb went off.

Steve stood off to the side as Emily was pulled into hugs, kissed on both cheeks, and easily switched between French and English. An older woman who looked like Emily wiped her hands on a dishrag and strode over to him. "You must be Steven."

"Steve Rogers, ma'am," Steve said quickly, thrusting his hand out to her.

"Caroline Harthorn. And we don't shake hands in this family, Steve," she said, pushing his hand aside and standing on her toes to hug him. "So happy you could make it. And happy birthday!"

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Caroline," she scolded gently.

"I can see why it didn't work with Josh," a redheaded woman said, her arm linked Emily's.

"I see you've met my mom," Em chuckled, handing him a beer. "This is Lauren-"

"Tucker's wife, nice to meet you," Steve said quickly. Once again, his hand was batted aside in exchange for a hug.

"I'd like to say I've heard a lot about you, but Em's been keeping you her not so little secret," Lauren smirked, knocking Emily's hip with hers.

"Who is this?" another older woman asked, and Steve was presented to aunts, cousins, great aunts, and friends of the family. There were so many names that his head was spinning. But as she had said, Steve overheard a few comments about how much better she looked than the last time they'd seen her.

"Ready to meet my dad?" Emily asked after tipping some salt into her beer. When he wrinkled his nose, she rolled her eyes. "It cuts the bitterness."

"Whatever you say," he chortled. "And yes, let's go find your dad."

"If you're going outside, take this to Dad," Caroline said, handing Emily a platter of uncooked hamburgers and hot dogs. "Steve, would you mind…?"

"I've got it," he nodded, taking the bags of rolls and buns. When Lauren opened a door right off of the kitchen, he was surprised to see a winding cement staircase.

"Watch your head," Lauren grinned. Steve smiled back; he liked Emily's family. They were open and curious, quick to laugh, and teased each other relentlessly. That was at least what he understood, given that most were jabbing in French.

"You doing okay?" Emily asked once they were in the lower level of the house.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he nodded, leaning close to kiss her. "It's not as bad as I thought."

"I told you, we're fun." She winked and slid open the door, stepping out into the sunshine. They were waylaid on their way the grill by family members who insisted on being introduced to Steve.

"Never marry a Frenchman," her Great Aunt Marie said, pointing her finger at Em. "You see what I have to deal with? You're not a Frenchman, are you Steve?"

"Irish, Ma'am."

"Good. If she can't find an Italian man, an Irish will do just as good."

"Aunt Marie," Em laughed, "I'm French. He's going to have to put up with the crazy."

"Well," Aunt Marie wiggled her eyebrows at Steve, "There's always options." After gently swatting Marie, Em kissed her cheek, and her Great Uncle Buster's, and lead them over to the grill.

"I was wondering when my girl was going to get here!" Matthew Harthorn said, placing the tongs on the side of the grill and opening his arms.

"Hi, Papa," Em grinned, giving him a sideways hug and tilting her head up so that he could kiss her cheek. He lifted the platter out of her hands before turning his attention to Steve.

"You must be Steve."

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Matt, Son."

"Auntie Em!"

"Mackenzie!" Emily leaned down to scoop up the little girl who ran to her, followed by the man Steve recognized as Tucker.

"Hey, Sis," Tucker said, hugging her tightly. Mackenzie squirmed between them before placing her hands on Emily's cheeks and giving her a sloppy kiss.

"Hello, _ma petite coeur_. _Ç__a va_?" Mackenzie nodded. "Have you met Steve?" Em asked, turning them to face him. The little girl regarded him before tucking her head into Emily's neck and hiding behind her hair.

"Tucker, but call me Tuck," her brother chuckled, resting a hand on his daughter's back. Steve shook his hand. In quick succession, Emily's two nephews and teenage niece joined them. He found it endearing when Jack, the younger of the two boys, signed Steve's hello to Brandon.

"You goin' swimming?" Jack asked.

"In a bit," Emily replied. "We've got some more hellos to say." Jack shook his head and, after exchanging a silent message with Brandon, the two ran back down the lawn, across the dock, and jumped into the lake.

"Want me to take her?" Jessica asked, flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder. Em handed over Mackenzie, who peeked at Steve before looking away. They chatted for a while before heading back up the hill to get their things out of the car.

"' Auntie Em'," Steve chuckled. When she raised an eyebrow, he laughed. "You don't like the Wizard of Oz." Emily rolled her eyes as he laughed.

OOO

Steve laughed before taking a swig of his beer. Emily grappled with yet another cousin before successfully tossing the younger girl off of the dock.

"Is that all you've got?" she teased, dodging as one of the younger boys rushed forward and ran headlong into the water. Emily turned and stuck out her tongue. Still laughing, Steve set the bottle down on the picnic table and removed his sunglasses.

"Woohoo!" Jake laughed when he saw Steve stepping onto the dock. Steve grinned at the kid. Emily turned to see what was going on and narrowed her eyes, but couldn't keep the grin off of her face.

"On the count of three, got it?" Steve said. Jake nodded and leaned forward, putting his left hand on his knee. "One…two…three!" Steve let the kid get a bit in front of him, shaking his head as Emily shoved him into the water. Lowering his shoulder, Steve lifted her off of her feet, ignoring the shriek she emitted, before jumping in the water.

Emily sputtered when they bobbed to the surface. "Thanks a lot!"

"Haha!" Jake laughed, pointing at the two adults.

"Oh, I'm coming for you kid!" she threatened, swimming towards the ladder.

"I've got her!" Steve assured Jake, wrapping an arm around Emily and holding her in place.

"I'm King of the Mountain!" Jake declared, flexing his small muscles. "You keep Auntie Em in there, Steve. I'll hold the fort."

"Yes, Sir," Steve saluted with his free hand. Emily twisted in his hold and tried to push off of his chest but he held fast.

"I was winning!" Emily pouted.

"Against a bunch of kids," he laughed. When Emily splashed him, he grinned and dunked her. He felt bad when she came up gasping for air, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, he felt it was somewhat worth it.

OOO

"One," Emily scolded Brandon as he tried to take another hamburger. "That's all you told Grandpa you wanted." When he signed something, she laughed and shook her head. "Get out of here, kid." Steve watched as she signed before ruffling his hair.

"I don't know how you do that," he said, opening another bag of chips and dumping in a bowl.

"What?" Emily asked before popping a chip in her mouth.

"Sign language. I think my fingers would get jumbled." Emily laughed and grabbed his hand.

"This is an easy one," she said, manipulating his fingers. "It's the first one I learned. Ok, this is 'I'." She propped Steve's pinky up. "Love," an 'L' shape. "You," she pushed all of his fingers but his thumb and pinky down. "There you go, your first signs."

"Like this?" he asked, attempting to do the movements as rapidly as she had. Emily laughed and shook her head when his hand froze on the second sign. Steve watched again as she manipulated his fingers, and successfully signed the short sentence on the second attempt, going much slower this time.

"And now you've officially learned to sign. Congratulations," Emily grinned. Steve was about to say something when one of her cousins called her. "Be right back."

"Having fun," Tuck asked, sidling up to Steve.

"Yeah," Steve nodded.

"That's good. Em's a great girl, huh?"

"One of the best," Steve grinned, watching as she chatted with one of her cousins.

"Well, before we get too far in the day, I wanted to say something. You see that guy over there?" Tuck pointed to the cousins. "And him? And her? Oh, him too."

"Yes," Steve said, wondering where this was going.

"Well, they're all cops. And between them and me and my dad, if you hurt her, you'll have all of us to deal with."

"I'll keep that in mind," Steve said. "But I'm not planning on hurting her."

"They never do. But now that my obligatory older brother duty is done," Tucker smirked," I can tell you that it's been a while since I've seen Em this happy."

OOO

They spent the rest of the day talking, eating, and drinking. Before dusk, the entire Black family piled into their cars and drove to the town park to watch the fireworks. Steve had held tightly to Em as they boomed overhead, wanting to make sure that he knew where he was, and so he wouldn't panic.

Most of the family had left from the park, calling it a night, but some drove back to the lake to gather their things. Steve was surprised when he was hugged by all of the women, and clapped on the back by the men. It was like they had adopted him as part of the family. Em stayed inside for a little to say goodnight to her family while he headed outside.

Steve sat on the dock with his feet in the water, watching as the last few sparklers in the neighboring camp went out. Emily had been right; coming up here had been relaxing.

BOOM! The sky was illuminated with golden sparks that crackled as they died away. BOOM! Red flared. BOOM! Red, white, and blue sparks. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! White jets, purple and green sparks.

When the dock swayed slightly, he turned to see Emily, looking up at the display with a smile, holding something. She turned away from the fireworks and took a deep breath before walking over to him and sitting down, placing the two beers and saltshaker between them. Two candles that would keep the mosquitoes away were place in her lap, and she lit the wicks, handing one to him. He placed it on his other side, just as she had done. In the flickering light, he would see that her hair was frizzy, and freckles that hadn't been there before the trip had appeared on her nose. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"Did you have fun today?" she asked, lowering her feet into the water where they brushed his. She leaned back on her arms, exposing a bit of her stomach.

"Yeah," he nodded, mimicking her actions. "You're different out here," Steve said as he handed her one of the beers that he'd twisted the top off of. She smiled and grabbed the saltshaker and tipped it into the neck of the bottle. When it fizzed, she brought it quickly to her mouth and took a long pull.

"What do you mean?" she asked finally.

"You're more relaxed." Emily laughed.

"That happens when you're around family."

"You're happier, too."

"Again, being around family."

"No," he disagreed, taking a pull of his beer. "I think it's being away from the city." Emily shrugged, lifting her feet from the water before splashing them back in.

"It's okay there, but I like how peaceful it is up here."

"Me too," Steve nodded. "You know," he leaned closer to her, whispering conspiratorially, "When I woke up, I thought about moving upstate and building a little place like this."

"Yeah?" Em chuckled.

"Yup. Maybe we'll do that one day."

"We?" she asked. He looked over at her and smiled, giving her a wink. Emily rolled her eyes and swung her legs out of the water. "What is that?" she asked, pulling her leg closer. And then she shrieked. "GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!" A big, fat leech was attached. Emily shook her leg frantically trying to dislodge it. "Oh god, get it off, get it off, get it off," she pleaded. Steve couldn't help but laugh.

"I've got it," he said. Emily groaned as he pulled her leg into his lap and held it in place with one hand, reaching for the saltshaker with the other. He shook a few grains on the leech and was able to pick if off with the beer cap. Laughing, he flipped it back into the water while Emily thrashed her leg against him.

"It's not funny," she pouted, "it's freaking gross." Still chuckling, Steve got up and pulled Emily to her feet. "What are we-" she shrieked softly when he picked her up.

"We need to clean that," he said, walking along the dock.

"I can walk, you know," she said. But she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"And get blood all over?" Apparently Em hadn't realized that blood was trickling down her shin because, when she looked, she groaned and shuddered. At the basement door, he'd paused to let her pull the glass sliding door open, and again for her to shut it, before walking up the cement steps. Even though she'd seen it how strong he was a million times, Em was still surprised at how easy this all seemed to him. After all, she wasn't exactly a tiny woman.

"I can get it from here," she whispered as they entered the kitchen. He shook his head and walked towards the bathroom and nudged the door open with his foot. With his elbow, Steve flicked on the light and set her on the closed toilet. In the light she could see the blood better; it was already reaching her ankle. Steve looked at it for a moment before opening the cabinet above her head. He rummaged around for a moment before retrieving a few cotton balls, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a bandage. When Emily reached for them, he shook his head and crouched in front of her, pulling her foot towards him so that it rested on his thigh. His left hand wrapped around her calf, holding her leg in place.

Emily watched as he wiped away the blood and threw the cotton balls in the trash. "Where'd you learn to bandage people up?" she asked. Steve looked up at her and smirked.

"I had plenty of cuts and bruises when I was a kid." When he placed the alcohol soaked cotton ball on the bite, she inhaled sharply.

"It's cold," she chuckled. Grinning, Steve pressed the bandage to the wound and, after winking at her, pressed a kiss to it. There was something…incredibly sexy about it. "Thanks." She put the supplies away while he washed his hands.

"You're welcome," he said, drying his hands on the towel. Steve smirked and shook his head, "I thought you'd handle a leech better."

"They're nasty little blood suckers," Emily shuddered. "Bleh." Smirking, she reached out and took his hand, wrapping their arms around her back. He took a step towards her and wrapped his other arm around her waist. She stood on her toes and kissed him. "Thanks, babe."

"You're welcome," he smiled.

"We should probably go back outside," she whispered against his lips. "In case someone wakes up."

"Okay," he agreed. She paused to grab a blanket for them before they went back out onto the dock.

"I have to ask you something," Em said once they were settled on the blanket, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Hmm?" he asked, rubbing his fingers along her side.

"This morning, before we left…" he smiled against her hair, "You asked if you had done something wrong."

"Did I?" Steve asked quickly, pulling away from her.

"No! But…" Emily bit her lip and looked up at him. "You've…erm…you're not a virgin, right?" Even in the dim light, she could see that Steve's face had gone bright red. "Oh my god, you're a virgin," she groaned, clapping her hands over her face.

"It was something to be proud of back then." Embarrassment colored his voice, and Emily quickly removed her hands, shaking her head.

"Nooo, no, Steve, it's not a bad thing," she said. "It's just…god it explains so much. Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, smacking his chest. "I just kept throwing myself at you and…I feel like such a whore no-"

Steve put his hand over her mouth and looked her square in the eye, "I wouldn't let anyone else call you that, so you can't either." Em pushed his hand away and covered her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"God, Steve, I…I am so sorry." Shaking his head, Steve leaned down to kiss her, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and running his thumb along her jaw.

"Emily, listen to me," he said sternly. "If I had had a problem with it, I would have let you know, okay? Everything we've done is what I wanted to do as well."

"Are you sure?" Em asked, biting her lip.

"Yes," Steve laughed, "I'm sure. God, I love you," he chuckled, kissing her again when she still looked upset.

"I love you too," she said softly.

"Look at it this way," Steve said, pulling her into his lap. "It's just something else you have to teach me about. And," he pressed his lips to her throat, "I am happy," her cheek, "to learn." He smiled when she squirmed in his lap.

"You like baseball, right?" Emily asked, and Steve, slightly confused about this new conversation, nodded. "Ok. So we'll go over the bases."

"Bases?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. "This is first base, which we've explored quite a bit."

"Yeah," Steve said against her lips. When she opened her mouth to speak, he took advantage and deepened the kiss, smiling as she moved to straddle him.

"Want to hit second base?" she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders and holding him off. Steve nodded, pulling her back towards him, but stopped when she shook her head. "Hang on." He sighed when she got off of him and tugged off her shirt, revealing her blue bathing suit top that he'd admired all day. When she pulled at the blanket, Steve lifted himself and raised an eyebrow when she crooked her finger at him. He rolled towards her and mouthed at her throat, smiling as she arched against him. Her skin felt warm under his hand, and Em threw the blanket over them both. "Second base?" she panted.

"Mmhmm," he nodded, hovering over her. Em bit her lip and took his right hand in hers. Smiling shyly, she kissed his palm before placing it on her breast. Steve stroked her nipple through the fabric of her top, smiling slightly as Em squirmed under him. "Can I?" he asked, his fingers dipping lower to stroke the band just below her bust. Emily nodded, blushing slightly as he pushed the material aside.

Steve smiled and stroked her again, watching as her nipple hardened under his touch. Hesitantly, he leaned down and took it in his mouth, running his tongue over the nub. Emily arched against him, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. Grinning, Steve flicked his tongue, watching her reaction. His other hand traveled up her side and stroked her left breast before pushing the material aside.

"Steve," Emily moaned, hooking her leg over his hip and pulling him closer. She could feel his erection through his swim trunks and pulled him up to kiss him hard, all teeth and tongue. They stopped only so that Em could pull his shirt over his head, and she kissed down his chest while stroking him through his trunks. Steve buried his face in the crook of her neck, trying to stifle his groan. "You okay?" she asked when she felt him shaking. "Hey, talk to me."

"Fine," Steve said, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Emily frowned and moved her hands to cradle his face.

"You sure?" she asked, frowning. His face was flushed, as was his chest, but he was shivering.

"Yeah," he nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. "Just…my heart's pounding."

"That's normal," she smiled, kissing the tip of his nose. "We don't have to go any further." He nodded, rolling off of her. After adjusting her top, Em curled up next to him, flinging the blanket over both of them. Steve twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers while taking deep, calming breaths. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to set the pace of everything now, okay?" Em propped herself up on her elbow, meeting his lusty gaze. "We're only going as far as you're comfortable." A lazy smile crossed his lips as he pulled her closer, gently kissing her lower lip.

"Okay."

"Okay," she echoed.

Em and Steve were quiet for a while, until Em lifted her hand and started to point out the different constellations. They talked about how the day had gone, and Steve laughingly told her he had a new appreciation for baseball (they'd used a different metaphor when he was growing up; when Em looked shocked, he'd explained that that 1) He'd grown up with Bucky, and 2) he'd been in the Army).

They fell asleep in each others arms, and only woke up with Jack and Brandon ran down to tell them breakfast was ready in the morning.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Happy Christmas Eve Eve! (Sorry, Friends reference, lol). Sorry for the delay again, I've been wrapped up in the Christmas fic, _Baby, It's Cold Outside_. I hope you guys like this one, because it's been one of the scenes that I pictured for a long time. Honestly, this was supposed to be where Em and Steve first kiss. But my wonderful beta, **blown-transistor**, kept saying "NOW KISS!" whenever I'd send her stuff, so I made that a lot sooner. So you have her to thank. Instead, you got two smut-light scenes =P

As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think! And happy holidays!


	41. Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

_Sew your heart to my sleeve  
We'll stay quiet  
Underneath shooting stars  
If it helps you sleep  
And hold me tight  
Don't let me breathe  
Feeling like  
You won't believe  
_

_There's a firefly  
Loose tonight  
Better catch it  
Before it burns this place down  
And I lie  
If I don't feel so right  
But the world looks better  
Through your eyes_

_Firefly - Ed Sheeran_

* * *

Darcy Lewis blinked owlishly as the door to the bar swung open. Hastily, she closed her laptop and pushed her notebook under it. "Not spying today, Love," Carter smirked as he walked in.

"I don't trust S.H.I.E.L.D.," she smirked, "they've got a history of stealing my stuff."

"Look," he chuckled, walking around the bar and retrieving the bottle of whiskey he was working on, "I put in the request for the return of your iPod."

"I'll believe it when I've got my godly David Bowie playlist back." Carter laughed and tipped his glass to her.

"You've got panache, Lewis. Anyone ever tell you you'd make a wonderful agent?"

"You guys must be really low on your recruitment totals if you're asking me."

"A little weapons training, some lessons on espionage, and you'd be on Romanoff's level."

"I hope that Romanoff is good, and you're not secretly insulting my potential…uh…potential," Darcy pointed at him with her pen. Carter winked and took a swig of the whiskey, leaning against the bar.

"Not an insult. She's one of the best we have. She can even do…this!" Darce squealed with indignation as he swiped the notebook out from under her computer and jumped back out of her reach.

"Give it back, asshole," she said, climbing onto the bar and lunging at him. Unfortunately, her foot slipped before getting a good purchase, and she more of fell towards him. Carter quickly dropped the notebook and caught her, and they both crashed to the floor, him pinned under her.

"You alright?" he asked quickly, grimacing slightly.

"Er…fine," she said, "You've got mad ninja reflexes."

"Comes with the training." He reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear, nudging the stem of her glasses. Smirking, she reached up to readjust the frames.

And then he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down, his lips pressing hungrily against hers. Darcy opened her mouth for him, and he gladly deepened their kiss. His hand pressed into her lower back, fingers slipping under to caress her.

Darcy panted as his attention turned to her neck, his scruff rubbing against her skin as she buried her hands in his short hair. "Going to tell me," she paused to moan when he sucked hard on her throat before running his tongue over the spot. "What the big secret is?"

"No secret," he shook his head before kissing her again, hand slipping down to squeeze her ass. It took every ounce of her self control not to give into his rather persuasive ways (after all, she wasn't some sex crazed intern), and pulled away.

"One: yes there is. And two: I would never have sex on a dirty bar floor." Carter frowned and pushed himself up onto his elbows, causing Darcy to shift to straddle his hips.

"Of course not. This was just the start. I was thinking the pool table would be nice." Darcy's mouth fell open before she smacked his chest. "What? We both have flat mates." When she hit him again, Carter grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her back. The sudden movement made her pitch backwards, and her hands landed on his knees.

"We're not having sex." Carter studied her for a moment before nodding and letting go of her. "However, you tell me your secret, and I'll be more than happy to make out," she smirked, eyes darting to his lips.

"Why are you so obsessed with that? It's nothing to worry about right now," he shook his head. "Now this?" The notebook was in his hand, and before Darcy could stop him, Carter flipped it open.

"Invasion of privacy!" she yelled, grabbing it.

"Universities?" Carter frowned. "But you've finished your degree."

"These are, um, graduate schools," Darcy ducked her head, letting her hair curtain around her face.

"Graduate schools?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I mean, I can't be an intern forever. And Poli Sci doesn't exactly have a direct career path like engineering or nursing so…Why not?"

"Because you could be finished with classes," Carter smirked. Darcy looked up at him and hit his head with the notebook.

"Some people like school. Now, you know my secret, what's yours?" He took the notebook and looked at her list.

"You'd like New York. Florida? You'd need lots of sunscreen. California? Same."

"Enough commentary on my potential schools. Secret, now, or no sex ever."

"Ever consider going to London?" he asked, his hands moving to squeeze her ass.

"Nope. Kind of far from home."

"They've got a lot of good universities there. And you would have someplace to go on the holidays," he shrugged, examining a spot on her shirt.

"I don't know anyone there." Darcy put her finger under his chin and forced his eyes up.

"I'd be there."

"Some of the time," she smirked. "From what you've told me, you're still as BAMF S.H.I.E.L.D. agent extraordinaire."

"Careers end, love," Carter said sadly.

"You're leaving S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Darce frowned.

"There's…I've responsibilities to my family. And those require that I permanently…" he sighed, his fingers toying with the hem of her shirt.

"Move to London," she finished for him. He nodded.

"My grandfather's health is getting worse, and I'm the heir."

"Like, royalty?" Chuckling, Carter shook his head.

"I'm far enough from the royal linage that I'll never be King of England, but I will be Lord Falsworth one day. And that day seems to be coming soon."

"Whoa. And I thought getting my letters of recommendation was going to be a big deal." Darcy covered his hands with hers and gave them a squeeze.

"Selvig, Foster, and Emily," he shrugged. "Problem solved."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," she smiled, tugging her shirt over her head.

"I thought we weren't having sex," Carter said.

"We've been dancing around it long enough," Darcy smirked before leaning down to kiss him. "But, seriously, not on this floor."

OOO

It is impossible, Steve realized that week, for Emily to be bored around her family.

They spent nights playing flashlight tag with Emily's nephews (and he uses that time to steal as many kisses as he can), and making s'mores with the kids. It was only after Mackenzie tried to give Em the forth burnt marshmallow that the little girl turned and gave the fifth to Steve. He spent one afternoon helping Matt and Tucker cut down encroaching trees, gently nudging them so that they would fall away from the power lines. He learns some basic sign language and French. Whenever he turns around, there's another family member (or several) dropping in for a visit, commenting on how happy Emily is from the last time they saw her, and the endless talk of the wedding that weekend. Even before the reception, Emily's dance card is half full with uncles and cousins claiming her hand for one turn around the floor. Lauren joked that he's lucky they aren't _that kind_ of family.

And Steve wonders, not for the first time, how Emily moved away from all of this. He can tell how much she misses her brother, even as they fight over who will wash and who will dry the dishes. He finds it endearing how she will sit and pass sections of the paper back and forth with her father (although she never reads it at home). The sound of her speaking rapidly in French with her mother, punctuated by frequent laughs or gentle scolding, makes him smile. Emily and Lauren spend an afternoon talking about books and movies, and chatting about Lauren's family. More often than not, he finds Emily outside with the kids, making flower chains with Mackenzie, or chasing Jack and Brandon around, or swinging them in circles by their arms. A few times, he sees her sitting on the dock talking to Jessica, and Lauren tells him that they're more friends than aunt and niece, and that Jess sometimes feels more comfortable asking for Emily's advice (and Lauren understands that, and Em lets her know if anything pressing needs her attention).

Steve's favorite part of the whole trip, to that point, was going to the Old Orchard Beach Pier. He and Emily had been left to babysit the kids while the other Harthorns ran some errands. A grand total of five minutes after they'd left, Emily leapt to her feet, clapped her hands together, and told them to put on their shoes. He laughed while reading the note she left about kidnapping the children, and that she would bring home dinner, before kissing her shoulder. The six had piled into Tucker's SUV that he'd left for them and driven off.

Em had taken some time to parallel park but giddily jumped out of the car once the job was accomplished. With a tight grip on Kenzie's hand, she led them down the street and directly to Lisa's Pizza, where she ordered a bucket of French Fries and drenched them in malt vinegar. Steve had tried one after being teased by the Harthorns, crinkled his nose, and ordered a small fry for himself. When the fries were eaten, Kenzie surprised him by reaching for his hand; he and Emily swung her between them while walking down the street towards the beach.

A grinning Emily had turned them into a noisy, dark arcade and given all of the kids a couple bucks to play with. "Skeeball?" she'd asked him as the kids scattered, Jessica holding tightly to her little sister. He hadn't played the game in ages, and was a little rust but they'd played a few rounds, racking up the tickets, before moving to the other games. When Jack had some back to ask for a few more quarters, Steve pulled out a ten-dollar bill and told him to split it with his siblings. That earned him a kiss from his girl.

Steve wrapped his arm around Emily's shoulders as they watched the kids go 'round and 'round on the carousel. He'd smile every time they spotted them, because the kids would wave and they would inevitably wave back. After that, Jessica and Emily went to go see a fortuneteller, while Steve went onto the pier with the others. They spent the time looking through the binoculars and looking at the different vendors. Wrangling a group of kids, Steve realized, was a lot more difficult than he would though. Emily made it seem much easier. About twenty minutes later, the girls had reappeared, arms linked, and refusing to talk about what had been told to them.

On the way back, they stopped at a restaurant called Pizza by Alex. Emily raved about the food, and made sure to ask for the old oven. Steve had to admit, it smelt better every minute they were in the car. And it was well worth the wait when they got back to the house.

OOO

Steve woke up and felt the scream rising in his throat. Shaking, he turned quickly and pressed his face into the pillow, trying to drown out the screaming in his head. He could still feel the blood cooling on his hands, and scrubbed them on the sheets, fighting against the bile rising in his throat.

Quickly, he stood up and hurried towards the bathroom. Steve flipped the light on and bent over the toilet, retching. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat, and he hastily wiped them away.

"Steve?" Jake asked, grinding his fist against his eyes. Steve jerked up and tried to smile at the little boy.

"Hey buddy," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Are you sick?" Knowing this would be the easiest explanation, Steve nodded.

"Yeah. My stomach's just a bit upset. Go back to bed, pal."

"I'll get Mommy."

"No, no, I'm fine, see," Steve dragged the back of his wrist across his mouth and stood up, ignoring the lurch in his stomach. He flushed the toilet and smiled unconvincingly.

"Everything okay?" His face flushed as Caroline appeared in the doorframe, tying the sash of her bathrobe.

"Steve's si-"

"I'm fine," he quickly cut off the little boy. Caroline studied him before putting her hands on Jake's shoulder and squeezed gently. When he craned his neck to look up at him, she smiled softly.

"Go back to bed, Honey. Grammy's got it." Jake rubbed his eyes again and nodded, returning to his room after Caroline kissed the top of his head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake anyone-" He stopped talking when the older woman walked towards him and reached to lay the back of her hand across his forehead.

"I have two kids, and four grandkids," she smiled, "I hear everything in this house. Now sit down." Obediently, Steve lowered the toilet lid and sat on it, taking the paper cup of water she passed him and rinsed his mouth while she stepped out into the hall. She returned a moment later with a washcloth in hand, which she ran under the hot tap and handed it to him. "Wash your face and tell me what's wrong."

"Noth-"

"Don't tell me it's nothing, Steven," she said sternly. "If it was nothing, you wouldn't be up in the middle of the night, sick to your stomach. Is it a stomachache? Headache? Bad dreams?"

"Just a stomachache," he lied. She gave him an unconvinced look.

"Your mother may not have told you, but Moms have an ability to tell when we're being lied to." The corner of Steve's mouth twitched into a smile.

"Did that work on Emily and Tuck?"

"You'd be surprised how often," Caroline smiled slightly. "Now," she sat on the edge of the tub and fixed him with a piercing stare, "tell me what's wrong."

"It's noth-" he quickly redirected when she opened her mouth and raised a finger in warning, "just had a nightmare." Caroline's eyes swept his face, a question on the tip of her tongue. She bit it back, knowing the answer already, and gave a curt nod.

"I've got a remedy for that. Brush your teeth and join me in the kitchen." Steve had to smile as the older woman got to her feet, patted his shoulder, and then disappeared into the hall. He stood and shut the door before retrieving his toothbrush from the drawer he and Emily were sharing for their stay and scrubbed his teeth.

When he got to the kitchen, Steve blinked at the sight of Emily sitting at the kitchen table, head resting on her folded arms, her eyes pressed close. Two steaming mugs sat on the table, one directly in front of her. "Sweethe-"

"Here you go," Caroline smiled, thrusting a paper plate with a sandwich into his hands and walking over to the table with another. Emily's eyes fluttered open when her mother nudged her with the plate and she sat up, stretching.

"Hey," she yawned, giving Steve a sleepy smile before patting the chair beside her. "Ooh, _merci Maman_." He sat beside her, squeezing her knee under the table as she took one of the sandwiches and took a bite out of it. "Mmm," she hummed.

"My father used to swear by these," Caroline explained, reaching over to tear a piece of Emily's sandwich off. Em playfully glared and pulled the sandwich closer to her as her mother popped the bread in her mouth. Steve lifted the piece of bread and examined the sandwich; there was something gooey and white on one slice, and peanut butter on the other.

"'Sa fuffer-nudder," Emily said thickly, giving an exaggerated wince when her mother swatted her arm.

"Were you raised with no manners, Emily Rose?"

"Sorry," Em smirked after taking a sip from her mug. "It's a fluffer-nutter. Marshmallow and peanut butter," she explained. Steve remembered her mentioning them while they were in her parent's attic.

"And warm milk," Caroline added, nudging the second mug towards him. "Best nightmare remedy I've ever had."

"Nightmare?" Emily asked, looking from her mother to Steve.

"And fresh air," she ignored her daughter's question and stood up, dusting the crumbs off her hands. "Flashlights are under the sink." Caroline walked around the table and leaned down to kiss Emily's cheek and, without hesitating, did the same to Steve. "Night, kids. Sleep tight. Love you."

"Love you too," Emily said over the rim of her mug.

"Good night," Steve smiled.

"Oh," Caroline stopped halfway down the hall and walked back to them. "I'll make an exception for tonight so you two don't end up out on the dock again." Her eyebrows rose as she pointed out the screen door towards the dock. "Emily, you have my permission to sleep on the couch tonight."

"That's not necessa-" Steve started to protest, not wanting to overstep the Harthorn's hospitality.

"Thanks, _Maman_. Make sure you tell Dad before he comes out in the morning." Caroline nodded again and closed the distance between them, giving both Steve and Emily another kiss goodnight. Once they heard Caroline close her bedroom door, Emily turned and faced him. "Nightmare?"

"It's nothing," he said before taking another bite of his sandwich. He had thought it would be overly sweet, but the peanut butter lessened it somewhat. "This is good. Just peanut butter and marshmallow?"

"Don't change the subject. What did you dream about?" Steve shook his head, his hand resting on her knee again, thumb gently stroking.

"I'm fine." She shook her head and stood up, taking the now empty paper plates and mugs into the kitchen. After rinsing out the mugs, Em reached under the sink and grabbed two flashlights, tossing them both to him.

"Alright, Captain, we're going for a walk. And that's an order." Steve stood up and gave her a mocking salute. She patted his chest while walking to the front door. She put on her shoes and pulled his jacket out of the coat closet. "Mine is in the room with the girls." Smiling, Steve tucked the flashlights under his arm and took the jacket from her, holding it out. Emily smiled and slipped her arms into the sleeves. He leaned down to kiss her, tasting the marshmallow on her lips.

When they got outside, Steve was bouncing with nervous energy. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against him. They didn't talk while walking along the dirt road until Emily stopped. "Go," she sighed, motioning down the road with her flashlight.

"Huh?" he looked down at her.

"Go! You haven't gone running at all and I know that it calms you down. So go." When he opened his mouth to protest, she shoved him gently. "Go." Steve gave a nervous smile while looking down the dirt road. She was right; going to a jog would make him feel a bit more in control, but he was reluctant to let her out of his sight. "I'll be fine," Em seemed to be reading his mind. "Worst that can happen is I startle a deer or something."

"Meet you at the end of the road?" Steve said after another moment.

"Yup. And watch out for pot holes; you don't need to twist your ankle." He tipped her chin up and kissed her, one hand circling her waist.

"Go," Em chuckled, shoving him again. He nodded, giving her one more kiss before turning and jogging down the road. Steve glanced over his shoulder a few times, and Em always waved him off.

Steve sped up as he got further away. He felt his muscles stretching after a long time not running. His sneakers slid slightly on the dirt, and he quickly came to the end of the road. After a glance behind him, Steve shrugged and started to run along the paved road. It was relaxing to stop thinking and just focus on his breathing.

Once he hit the end of the road, Steve turned around and ran back. It was when he came around the last bed in the road, he paused; Emily wasn't there. Panicking, he picked up his pace and sprinted back. When he was still didn't see her, his heart started to pound. It wasn't happening. She was fine. Just…

"Whoa!" Emily stood up from her crouch as Steve sprinted by. He skidded to a stop, sneakers sliding on the dirt, his arms pin wheeling as he tried to keep from pitching backwards. It didn't work. Laughing, Em stood up and walked over to him, holding out her hand to help haul him to his feet. "That is the single most ungraceful thing I've ever seen you do."

Steve took her hand and stood up, yanking her closer to him and wrapping his arms tightly around her. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, trying to slow his breathing. "You're okay," he said softly.

"Yeah, fine. Just had to tie my shoe." She tried to take a step back but he wouldn't let her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Don't ever leave me." Frowning, Em put her hands on his face and met his gaze.

"What are you talking about?" Steve covered her hands with his own and fought against the rising panic in his chest.

"Let's leave New York. We can move up here and have a normal life and a family, and we'll be safe. We don't have-"

"Steve!" Emily sounded somewhat panicked herself. "What is going on?"

"Don't die," his voice cracked, "Don't leave me alone again."

"Oh. Oh, god, Steve, Honey, I'm fine," Emily said. She took his hand and put it over her heart. "See? Is…is that what you dreamed about? Me dying?" He nodded.

"It was horrible," Steve pressed his eyes shut tightly, trying to push away the image of her lying in a pool of blood, eyes vacant. His hand swept down her sides, checking for injuries. It wasn't very subtle, and she quickly picked up on it.

"Need me to lift up my shirt so you can get a better look?" she asked. He could tell it wasn't something sexual this time. So he didn't feel bad when he nodded. Em shrugged off his coat and handed it to him before pulling up her shirt to expose her stomach. "Can't do more, because I'm not wearing a bra."

"It was right here," he sighed, pointing to just below her sternum.

"Nothing there, see?" She turned around so that he could see her back as well. His fingers swept over her spin, trying not to think about the exit wound he'd seen there. Emily shivered and turned back to face him. Steve nodded and put his hands on her waist, keeping them there as she let her shirt fall. "And you want to move up here?"

"It's nice here," he shrugged.

"It is," Emily looked around, "but I can't live here again. Maine is nice because we're visiting. It would get boring after a while. Besides, we both have responsibilities in New York." Steve leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers.

"The rest of it, though?" She had to think about his quick rant, and then pulled away.

"Did you propose?"

"Maybe," Steve said quickly, a blush creeping across his face.

"No!" He frowned at her emphatic response. "No, hang on, Steve, I love you. But we've only known each other for a few months!"

"It happens all the time, Sweetheart," he said.

"It doesn't! Not unless the girl gets pregnant, and there is no chance of that happening between us. And besides, you're only freaking out because of a nightmare." Steve leaned down to kiss her, but Em ducked her head and pushed him away.

It did happen all the time. People got married before shipping off. Soldiers would come home after a tour overseas and tell a girl they had spoken to a few times that they loved them for years, and then run off to get married. Sweethearts would sometimes only be given twenty-four hours to get a wedding put together before their guy left.

"Emily-"

"Please don't push this, Steve." He sighed and tipped her head up to look her in the eyes."

"I'll leave it alone for now," Steve said, "but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And this isn't because of a nightmare. I want you, and I want to be a part of your family."

Em bit her lip before standing on her toes and kissing him. "It's not a forever no. And there's a ton of stuff we don't know about each other. Like, you don't even know my birthday."

"March fifteenth." She furrowed her eyebrows. "I was given your personnel file right after I woke up."

"And to think, in some relationships, the people just ask these questions," Em sighed. "You get what I'm trying to say, though, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, taking his jacket and draping it around her shoulders. Wordlessly, they turned and walked back to the house, where Steve quickly cleaned up before crawling into the pull out couch's bed.

"You realize," Em said as he pulled her closer, wanting to make sure that she wasn't going anywhere, "that you're making plans for the future."

"Is that a bad thing?" Steve asked.

"No," she smiled. "It's a really, really good thing. Because last time we got anywhere near the subject, you said you didn't have a future to make plans for." A quick smile crossed Steve's lips before he kissed the tip of Em's nose.

She was right. Steve wasn't sure when he'd started planning for the future, but he had.

And, unashamedly, all of those plans included the woman who was quickly falling asleep right beside him.

OOO

"Emily, could I have a word with you?" her dad asked, nodding to the back door the next morning. Matthew Harthorn, while having been warned by his wife that his daughter was sleeping on the couch, had gone a little red around the ears seeing how close the two were. After all, he still saw his daughter as the little Emmie who crawled into his bed during particularly bad dreams.

"Sure," she replied, furrowing her eyebrows. Steve looked up from the newspaper and met Matthew's gaze for an moment before dropping it. Seeing this, Em squeezed his hand before dropping her fork on her plate. "What's up?" she asked once they were on the back patio.

"Honey, I don't want you to get mad, but your mother told me about last night. I worried about you being with-"

"Dad, please don't," she cut him off. "I know where you're going with this, and I don't want you to worry."

"Em, you're my little girl," he sighed and shook his head, "I'm always going to worry about you. And last night…I don't want to see you hurt again." Em leaned against the railing and hung her head.

"He's not Garrett, Dad. Steve's getting help."

"He might be," he conceded. "But your mom and I don't want you to go through this again. Do you think that, maybe, you've got a thing with…I don't know," he turned slightly red, "saving people?"

"I think it may be time to stop watching Dr. Phil, Dad," Emily teased.

"You can make fun of it, Emily Rose, but that man has some good points sometimes," the older man grinned. He glanced back into the house where Steve was pointedly trying not to look and shook his head. "He's a good man, Em. And if you're happy with him, than I'll be quiet."

"I am happy," Emily smiled.

"That's all that matters," he said, opening his arms. Em hugged her dad and laughed.

"He was really worried about meeting everyone."

"I'm glad. I can be very intimidating when I need to be."

"Oh come on, you're a big softie, _Papa_."

"I think I can scare the be-Jesus out of any guy you bring home. Maybe I should ask him what his intentions are. That always gets men flustered." Matthew glanced at his daughter, who had flushed slightly. "Do I need to have that talk with him, Emily?"

"Nope."

"We can all see how serious you are-"

"We're good. No need for that talk for a long time," Em patted his shoulder. "Now, my eggs are getting cold. Is this discussion done? Or are you going to scold me for stealing Tuck's car?"

"That's between your brother and you. But we'll wait another minute before going in. Let Steve squirm a bit more," Mr. Harthorn said solemnly before kissing the top of his daughter's head.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Happy New Year! Hope you guys like this chapter. For those of you who ever go to Maine, I highly recommend going to Old Orchard. It's one of my favorite places. Lisa's Pizza has great Pier Fries and fried dough. Alex Pizza is the best pizza I've ever had, but make sure you ask for the old oven! Also, try a fluffer-nutter. They're phenomenal.

For those of you wondering why Steve would propose, in my mind, he's still somewhat in that war mentality. It makes sense to him not to wait to make their relationship official.

I hope you guys liked the fluffy bits, and him being accepted so readily by her family doesn't seem odd. I'm kind of basing the Harthorns off of my own extended family in Maine, and that's how they act.

A brief note about postings. I'm off to Orlando for the weekend with the family, and then to London on Wednesday. I'm planning on spending most of my flight writing, but I'm not sure how much privacy I'll get on the plane (next to none, probably) and in the flat. So, that being said, I'm not sure when the next update is. I've gotten us to the point where there's going to be big things coming from here on out, so don't think Steve and Em are done! Some of the stuff I have typed out already, so that's easily tossed in, but the rest needs to be written down/revised. Long story short, I'm asking you guys to be patient with me for the next few weeks as I get my self re-acclimated to living overseas.

As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!


	42. Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty-One

**Warning: This chapter contains mature content. If you do not wish to read this, disregard the section demarcated by the ***.**

* * *

Emily reached out and caught her nephews by their arms as they tore by her. "Brandon, Jake, stop running in the house!" Emily huffed, her frustration evident as she signed rapidly.

"You heard your aunt," Tucker backed her up, peering out of the bathroom and frowning at his sons. "Now go put your shoes on, and get your ties."

"Mom didn't tell us where they were," Brandon said and signed, his voice monotone and somewhat difficult to understand.

"On your bed," Jessica sighed as she stomped to the bathroom. "Dad, I've got to do my hair!"

"I'll be out in a second," Tuck stated, rinsing his razor under the tap.

"Emily, I found your shoes," Steve said as he walked back into the house, her heels in his hands.

"Thank god," Em rushed forward and took them out of his hand, standing on her toes to peck his cheek. He smiled and squeezed her hand as she pulled away.

"Breathe," he ordered gently. She took an exaggerated deep breath and smiled vapidly.

"We need to leave here in an hour, people!" Matthew stated, stepping out of his bedroom and clapping his hands.

"Dibs on the bathroom!" Jessica yelled, darting towards the room.

"I still have to shower!" Emily shrieked, racing her niece.

"And this is why Lauren usually organizes us," Tucker grinned at Steve, who shook his head. His wife and mother-in-law had taken Mackenzie to get ready with the bride, as Kenzie was going to be the flower girl.

"I can see why," Steve chuckled as Jessica stomped out of the bedroom scowling.

Forty-five minutes later, Tuck and Matthew were tearing apart the house trying to find boy's shoes that had disappeared. Emily was trying to convince Jessica that she'd put too much make up on while Steve was helping the boys with their ties, which had been found down in the basement. Throwing up her hands, Emily sighed and threw up her hands with an exasperated 'Fine!' "Can we leave yet?" she turned her attention back to her father, tapping an invisible watch on her wrist. "We're going to be late."

"Calm down, Emily," Matthew huffed, sounding nearly as frustrated as his daughter.

"We'll wait outside," Steve said as he stood.

"Me too!" Jake added. He'd taken a particular liking to Steve, and was following him around like a lost puppy. That could be because Steve let him hang off of his arm while walking around outside.

"No," Tuck snapped. "You and your brother are going to help us find your shoes." Giving a resigned sigh, Jake shoved Brandon's shoulder as he walked away to begin his search.

"Come on," Steve said, linking hands with Emily and pulling her towards the door. When they were standing on the porch, he chuckled and pulled her into his arms; she ducked her head and rested her forehead on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist.

"They are driving me _nuts_!"

"Couldn't tell," he smirked, giving her a quick squeeze.

"This," she poked him hard in the back, making him say 'Hey!', "is why we're not moving anywhere near my family. Ever. I need at least a few hour's notice that they're coming."

"I'm sure our kids will act just like the boys." Emily raised an eyebrow.

"_Our_ kids?" Unashamedly, Steve shrugged.

"Yeah." He paused half a second. "You want kids, right?"

Emily flushed slightly, thinking about how she'd had this exact conversation before, only with a different man. "Someday." Seeing the expression on her face, Steve frowned slightly.

"Am I rushing you? And be honest," he cupped her chin when she tried to look down, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb stroked her cheekbone, and Emily nodded.

"People don't get married as quickly as they did in the 40s," her voice dropped on the last few words. "And I want to be married at least a year before even thinking about having kids. Besides, I've got a lot that I want to accomplish before even thinking about that."

"Like what?" His hands fell to her waist, bunching the green material of her dress.

"Like getting an actual teaching job. And maybe publishing a book. Basically being established," she shrugged, fingers smoothing the silk of his black tie. "There was a longer list when we…I mean I…" Em trailed off, her fingers stilling.

"When you talked about it with Garrett," Steve finished for her. Biting her lip, Emily nodded, not daring to look up and see his expression. They hadn't really talked about Garrett in a while, not since they'd become, well, a couple. The week had been full of sidestepped conversations, but this was the first time they'd outright talked about her past.

Sighing, Steve tipped her chin up again, giving her his most Captain America look. "You had a life before me, and I respect that. You don't ever have to feel like you can't talk to me about it. Ever. Understood?"

"Is that an order?" she teased only half-heartedly.

"No," he shook his head, "It's a request. I don't want there to be secrets between us."

"How is it that you've only dated two women?" Emily asked, her voice somewhat awestruck. "You're kind of, like, the perfect boyfriend."

"One," he smiled, "I never really had time to date Peggy. You're the only woman I've dated."

"Lucky me," she smiled, leaning forward to capture his lower lip. "Cause I don't plan on letting anyone else have shot." Steve leaned down to kiss her full on the mouth as his hands drifted towards her backside.

"Emily Rogers does have a nice ring to it," he said against her lips. He felt her still for moment before kissing him again.

"Harthorn-Rogers," she corrected. "I'd have to hyphenate."

"Why?" he frowned, pulling back slightly.

"Because I'm already published under Emily Harthorn." She could tell this ruffled his old-fashioned sensibilities. "At least professionally, I'd be Harthron-Rogers. Privately, I'd go by Rogers," she reached up to brush away a strand of hair from his face, and he held her hand in place. Smiling, he turned to kiss her palm.

"So is this an agreement to marry me at some point in the future?"

"I still stand by what I said on our walk," Em held up her finger. "We still have a lot to learn about each other before we even consider it. And we need to be together for a lot longer. But… " she tried to fight the smile that was making her lip twitch, "I guess it is." Grinning, Steve swooped down and lifted her up, arm across her upper-back thigh, so that she was slightly above him. Emily cupped his face and kissed him. "Some time in the future," she said after breaking apart, him chasing her lips.

"Doesn't matter," he replied after kissing her again, the silly smile still on his face. "I'll get you a ring when we get home."

"What?!" Emily shrieked.

"A promise ring, Sweetheart," he attempted a smirk but failed. "It can be an engagement one, if you'd like."

"I don't need a ring. I didn't take one off to repla-"

"We're ready!" Tucker said, throwing the door open. He paused, raising an eyebrow upon seeing Steve holding his sister up. Steve flushed slightly before lowering Em, her dress pulling up slightly on his belt buckle. Jessica, however, rolled her eyes and walked to the car. The boys ran out next, Jack appearing at Steve's side instantly.

"Can I sit with you at the wedding?"

"_Can_ you?" Emily said, which made Jack huff.

"_May_ I sit with you?"

"We'll see," Steve said, reaching to ruffle Jack's hair.

OOO

Steve watched as Emily twirled around the dance floor, laughing as her uncle pulled her in close. She grinned and stole his fedora and put it on her head before leaning forward and pecking his cheek as the song ended. Em had barely sat for the entirety of the wedding reception, as her family members had come to collect on the promised dances. Even when she wasn't dancing with someone, she was in the middle of the floor, swinging her hips, and chatting with a cousin who had sat near them at the wedding.

"Ya up for another be-ah?" Wayne, a Black cousin, asked Steve. They had come descended on his table the minute Em had been drawn out to the dance floor, asking him a dozen questions, joking about the family ("That many Blacks in a church? I'm surprised the Guy Upstairs didn't collapse the roof!"), and talking about the Red Sox, Bruins, Celtics, and Patriots. For his part, Steve nodded along, chuckling when appropriate, and continuing the lie that he worked for Homeland Security (Coulson had given him a brief overview of his cover story).

"I'm fine for now," he shrugged, smiling as Emily zigzagged her way towards him. She paused for a minute to speak to the bride and groom before embracing them both and continuing on her way. When she sat in his lap, Steve was a bit surprised.

"Ugh, I need another beer to see that," Tucker gave an exaggerated grimace, which made Em chuckle.

"I had to put up with you and Lauren when I was younger," she stated before kissing Steve.

"You walking in on us making out doesn't count," Tuck smirked. "Wayne? Wes? Another beer?"

"You need to ask?" Wes replied, winking at Em and Steve as he stood. "One for you, _Petite Rose_?"

"Sure," Em nodded, reaching for her purse. Before she could reach it, however, Steve had retrieved his money clip from his jacket and was handing a bill to Wes. When he nodded and walked away, Em rolled her eyes. "I can buy my own beer."

"Get used to being taken care of," he smirked, wrapping his arms around her waist. She huffed and draped her arm over his broad shoulders.

"You know how I feel about that."

"Yes," Steve nodded. "You don't like being indebted to people. But one day, everything I have is going to be yours anyways, and vice versa." He lifted her left hand and placed a kiss on her ring finger. The small action made Emily's heart flutter.

"Steve," she said softly, "That's not for a long while. And when I say that, I want you to understand that I mean a year at the bare minimum."

"I don't understand why," he shook his head, one hand drifting down to rest on her knee. "I love you, and you love me. Why wait?" Smiling sadly, Emily buried her hand in his hair and gently massaged his scalp.

"_Mon Coeur_, we're still in the honeymoon stage right now. Everything is new and exciting. We need time to figure out if this is really going to work in the long run-"

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve said quickly.

"You say that now," she half smiled, "but I can be really difficult to put up with. And we haven't even had any hard times to test this."

"But we have," he protested. "We fight all th-"

"Fights," Em cut him off, "but-"

"But nothing. I know that this is what I want. _I am not going to leave you_." Shaking her head, Emily leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

"Try to understand." He sighed.

"A year. And then I want you to be Mrs. Rogers."

"Minimum," Emily corrected. Again, he gave an exasperated sigh.

"Here ya go," Wes put the beer bottle down in front of Em and Steve, handing him back the change. "Salt's already in it."

"Thanks," Em said, wiping the condensation from the bottle.

"They're gonna do the dollar dance soon," Wayne winked. As soon as he finished saying it, the DJ cleared his throat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! If you'd line up, we'll be starting the dollar dance! Get your wallets out and pay our lovely Maid of Honor and Best Man for a spin around the floor with the new Mrs. and Mr. George Tate."

Emily stood and retrieved her purse, pulling out a few bills before grabbing Steve's hand and pulling him to his feet. "Come on."

"I don't dance."

"Fine. You can at least put the money in his shoes for me," Em rolled her eyes.

"Money in his shoe?" Steve echoed, sounding confused.

"Family traditions," Wayne shrugged, clapping him on the shoulder. "Just go with it."

It was odd. While Emily waited to dance with the groom, Steve stood off to the side. He watched as the Blacks rushed George and stole his shoe and began to pass it around. Everyone who got it shoved a few bills into it before handing it off. Once his shoe was gone George began to dance with the relatives, one quick turn, before going onto another. Jordan, the bride, was spending a bit more time with her partners.

This went on for nearly fifteen minutes, and it was clear that the newlyweds had been given a few hundred dollars. Steve looked down at a laughing Emily, who was watching George being spun around the floor by one of his tipsy groomsmen. It was easy to picture them doing this in a year or so. He could see Emily dancing with her family members in a white dress. Carter would fill in as the Best Man, and probably spend most of his speech teasing Emily. And Steve would grin and lean over to kiss his bride.

One year. One year and he was going to ask her.

OOO

On Sunday, the Harthorns packed up their things and loaded them into their respective cars, ready to being the trip back to their homes. After many hugs, a few warnings to take care of Emily, and a lot cautioning to 'drive safe', the two were on the road home.

"So, you've apparently earned my parent's stamp of approval," Emily said, looking at him other her sunglasses. He had insisted on driving after she'd set up the GPS.

"That's reassuring," he smiled, glancing over to meet her gaze.

"Was there ever any doubt?"

"Yes. After the...the nightmare." Emily reached over and put her hand on his leg; it was an awkward stretch but she did it anyways.

"My parents understand. They have an idea that you went through something."

"It was a near miss a couple times, keeping the cover story," he smirked. "I'm glad you helped me with the Homeland Security research." Emily chuckled and squeezed his thigh before removing her hand.

"I knew it would come in handy. I'm going to have to figure something out for NYU, though. Lauren mentioned coming down and visiting for a while. Which means she'd want to see the campus and my office."

"I'm sure Fury can get something arranged," Steve assured her. Emily was quiet for a few minutes, and he looked over at her. "What are you thinking?"

"Hum? Just that normal couples don't have to deal with all of this lying," she shrugged.

"It's not going to be forever. We'll be able to tell your family the truth one day."

"Maybe."

"Hey," he reached over and put his hand on her leg, "we will. It's not like this is a secret that we can keep forever."

"Yeah," Em nodded, covering her hand with his, and ignoring the twinge of arousal. Sighing, she looked out the window. "This vacation was too short. I wish we could just go along the coast for a while, maybe up to Bar Harbor."

"We could," Steve smiled. Em looked hopeful for a moment before her face fell.

"I'm sure Fury would scramble a team to drag us back. Besides, we've got stuff to do."

"We can do another trip soon. Your mother said we could come up anytime we wanted."

"I have a key," she nodded. "But I think Bar Harbor would be fun. Or maybe we could go somewhere in the South."

"We'll plan something. In the meantime, maybe we could…" he paused and flushed slightly. "Maybe we could catch a baseball game."

"Sure. I'll look up the schedule when we-"

"Erm," he cleared his throat, "not that kind of baseball."

"Is there another? …Oh!" Emily's eyes widened with understanding. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded, unconsciously licking his lips.

"Well then hit the gas, babe," she grinned. "We've got a long drive home."

"Yes, Ma'am," he chuckled.

OOO

There wasn't a conversation about Steve bringing his bag up to Emily's apartment, it just happened. Just like there wasn't a discussion about him throwing his dirty clothes into the washer with hers.

After that she stood at the bar lining her kitchen, flipping through the backlog of mail. "Huh, someone sent me a box," she said, holding up the yellow slip of paper. "Wonder who it is?"

"Don't know," Steve said, coming up behind her. He crossed his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him, his lips pressing against her neck. Emily tilted her head, allowing him better access. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He smiled against her skin, his hand slipping under her shirt to stroke her side.

"_Monsieur Rogers_," Em purred. "You're getting rather bold." Steve chuckled as his hand rose higher, pulling up her shirt as he went. With only a moment's hesitation, he cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple through her bra.

"Uh huh," he nodded, enjoying Emily arching back against him. "I think we had plans."

"I believe we did," she agreed before biting her lip. Steve withdrew his hand and spun her around, crowding her against the bar.

"What's third base?" he whispered in her ear.

"Bedroom," Em said, her voice husky. He nodded, hands slipping down her sides to capture her hands. Smiling nervously, he pulled her towards her room. Once the door was closed behind them, he was kissing her again, nipping at her throat and collarbone. "Mmm," Em hummed, her head falling back as he gently tugged at her hair. "You're more into this than I expected."

Steve nodded and pulled her flush against him. "We're promised to each other now." Before she could say anything, he reclaimed her lips, pushing her towards the edge of the bed. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she clutched his arms to stay upright. Steve took the opportunity to pull her shirt up and over her head, pausing to admire the new tan on her skin.

Smirking, Emily untucked his shirt and making quick of the buttons, pushing if off his shoulders. Steve grabbed the back of his undershirt and pulled it over his head, mussing his hair. She reached up to fix it as his shirt joined hers on the floor. Em wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him hard, tongue flicking the back of his teeth, making Steve groan against her mouth. Smiling, she broke away and kissed his chin, then sternum, and continued to make her way down his chest, making sure to meet his eyes the entire time.

Steve shifted, trying to hide the growing bulge in his slacks. As Emily paused to press her lips to his abdominal muscles, his head fell back as a loud moan forced its way from his mouth. His hips canted towards her when her lips hit just above his belt buckle. Blushing, he put a hand over his face. "Am I going too fast?" Emily asked, instantly moving away from him.

"Just…just need a minute," he panted.

"Ok," Em nodded, moving away from him and towards the center of the bed. After taking a few steadying breathes, Steve removed his hand and looked at the woman in front of him. She was leaning back on her arms, teeth digging into her lower lip as she regarded him, her hair resting on her bare shoulders. "You hanging in there?"

"Yeah," he jerked a nod before placing a knee on the bed and reaching for her. Em moved close enough to hook her fingers through his belt loops, and gave a forceful tug. Steve tilted towards her, bringing his other leg onto the bed and straddling her knees.

"If you're uncomfortable, or want to stop, say something, alright?" she ordered. Steve nodded again, leaning over he and pressing her back into the mattress.

"I love you," he said softly as his fingers swept the underside of her bra before nudging it upwards. It proved a bit more difficult than her bathing suit top. When Emily arched up slightly, kissing him again, his hand reached around her back, looking for the clasp of her. He fumbled with it for a moment or two before she batted his hands away and reached back with one hand.

"Got it," she said against his lips as the material became lose around her bust an instant later. With a practiced move, she shrugged it off and tossed it to the side.

"How did you do that?" Steve asked, sounding a bit impressed.

"Years of practice," she smiled. Their talking was limited when he once against turned his attention to her breasts, trying to find ways to make her squirm against him. There was a primal satisfaction when her leg wrapped around his waist and pulled her closer to him, her hips twitching upwards to meet his. He loved when she arched up against his lips, his name spilling from her mouth in breathy little gasps. "Come back up here," she said after a few minutes of his. Steve obliged.

"Was that okay?"

"You are way better at this than you give yourself credit for," Em replied, her eyes glazed with lust. Her chest was heaving against his, and Steve made sure to hold himself above her so that she didn't have any of his weight on her. "Ready to round third base?" Steve bit his lip and nodded, not entirely unsurprised when her hand traveled down his chest and cupped him through his trousers. He ground against her palm as she stroked him for a minute. "Still good?"

"Uh huh," he nodded, ducking his head slightly

"Steve, say the word and we'll stop." He shook his head and thrust a bit more forcefully against her hand to make sure she understood that he was fine. Taking the hint, Em began to undo his belt buckle, and then the button, finally pulling down the zipper. Her eyes were trained on his face the entire time, looking for a hint to stop. When she didn't see one, Em pushed his pants down and trailed one hand up his spine while the other slid into the band of his boxer briefs, pulling them down slightly. Again, she hesitated to see if he was okay with this.

"Okay," he nodded, his erection nearly painful at this point. Steve groaned when her fingers moved lower, and finally wrapped around him. His fists bunched the sheets by her head, and he nuzzled into the crook of her neck as she continued to stroke him, peppering kisses on his neck and shoulders. The thrusts against her hand became more erratic, and his muscles felt weak; his arms shook with the exertion of just holding himself over her. Steve babbled incoherently.

"St-stop," he panted, "going to…close…"

"It's okay," Emily hushed him; her free hand stroked the coarse hairs at the back of his neck. "I've got you."

Steve groaned loudly as he came, slopping kissing her neck. Spent, he collapsed on, her as Em stroked him a few more times before withdrawing her hand. His breath was ragged against her neck.

"You still with me?" asked Emily, shifting so that she could be more comfortable. Steve nodded, rolling onto his side. He pulled her with him, kissing her lazily.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she smiled. "Stay here, I'll be back in a minute."

"Stay," he protested, tightening his grip on her. Rolling her eyes, Em pushed away his arm and got out of bed, walking to her bathroom. After washing her hands and running a washcloth under the hot tap, she swiped it across her stomach. Steve was exactly where she left him, and he smiled at seeing her in the doorway, naked from the waist up.

"Tired?" Em asked as his eyelids fluttered. Steve shook his head as she crawled back into bed. He jumped slightly when she began to clean him up, and reached for the rag. "I've got it," she pushed his hand away. She folded up the rag and tossed in into the bathroom before lying on her bed. Their legs tangled as he pressed her to his chest, his head ducked so that her lips pressed against his forehead.

"Thank you."

"You said that already," Emily chuckled. He nodded, his hand that was resting on her hip sliding to cup her ass.

"Can I do that to you?" he asked sleepily before clenching his jaw to prevent a yawn from escaping.

"We'll save that for another time."

"Sure?"

"I'm sure." Just before he fell asleep, Emily had him move so that she could cover them with the blankets. Steve's hot breath tickled her chest, and just before nodding off, she smiled. "_Je t'aime, mon coeur."_

* * *

**Author's Note: **Not going to lie, writing the smutty bit was a bit awkward, but I'm trying to push myself to do more stuff like that. We'll see how that goes. Hopefully it didn't suck too much.

So yes, Em and Steve talked about marriage. It seems like a natural thing to do while going to a wedding. And this is what Steve needed in order to open up to her more and allow their relationship to progress. I hope you don't think this is too out of character.

Thank you all for your patience with me in the last week and some odd days. I've had a bit of trouble getting into this time zone, and I'm actually starting my internship today (so rather than prepping for that, I was writing this, lol). Fingers crossed I'll be able to write more consistently, but it's somewhat difficult, given that I now have 5 flatmates, and 2 roommates.

As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!


	43. Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty-Two

_In high definition I'm thinking of you_

_In my disposition I'm losing my cool_

_With my everything I'd give anything to be with you_

_And I will try my best to let it subside_

_I'm letting go without taking any part of_

_Something my heart truly wants_

_And no one will ever see you the way I do_

_Coffee by Yuna_

* * *

Steve woke up before the alarm and blinked against the weak light streaming through the window. Sometimes he really hated his internal alarm clock. Especially when he was comfortable enough to sink back into sleep, which he could do with the extra hour and a half before Emily got up.

His girl was stretched out on the other side of the bed, lying on her stomach. He could feel her foot reaching out to press against his calf under the covers, and it made him smile. Steve moved closer to her, sliding his arm under her pillow and spanning her lower back with his hand, stroking the soft skin there. He closed his eyes and listened to her steady breathing, trying to fall back asleep.

No such luck.

Half an hour later, Steve suppressed a groan and rolled onto his back, swiping his hand over his face. Giving into the inevitable, he got out of bed and tiptoed to door, grimacing when it squeaked open. He made a mental note to look at it before retrieving his clean clothes from the dryer and retreating to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Emily still wasn't awake when he'd finished. Steve took the opportunity to separate their laundry and fold his, returning it all to his bag. There was a moment's hesitation when it came to Em's things, and he wasn't sure how she'd feel about him handling her delicates. As a compromise, he folded her clothes and left those off to the side.

The coffee pot was going and Steve was looking around for another task that wouldn't make too much noise. There was always making breakfast, but Emily didn't like having a big breakfast before work. Huffing, he moved her clothes from the couch to the papasan chair she favored but he always felt like he'd break, and settled down to watch the television. It blared loudly when he found the power button on the remote, and he quickly jammed it again, not wanting to wake her up, and he wasn't entirely sure of what button was the volume one. Rather than examining the remote, he stood up and paced.

A book. That's what he needed. Unfortunately, he'd left the one Em lent him at S.H.I.E.L.D., but she had to have more, right? He crept to her office and winced again as that door creaked as well, before slipping inside.

It was obvious she hadn't had much time to organize. Her framed diplomas were still sitting on the floor along with some white boards and her propaganda posters, and boxes were stacked in the corner. Shaking his head (and adding more to his 'to-do' list), Steve walked to her bookshelf and looked over her collection. There were some novels that he recognized, others books that he couldn't even read the title of but had lots of notes sticking from them, and towards the top were her textbooks. Steve reached for one of those, taking one that was nearly doubled in size because of Post-It notes.

Returning to the living room, he flipped to the heaviest notated area and smirked at Emily's horrible penmanship. Steve's eyebrows shot up when he realized the section was about him. He flipped to the cover of the book and nodded, recognizing the name of the author: Dr. Joseph Doan. Settling back on the couch, he read some of the pages, trying to fight a smirk at some of the inaccuracies. A small part of him thought about writing this Dr. Doan who intimidated Emily so much and set him straight on a few things.

When he flipped to page 487, Steve stopped and picked up the picture stuck between the pages. He recognized the man in the picture instantly, even though he'd never seen him before. Both he and Emily were dressed formally, and she was sitting on his lap, fingers playing with his dark hair. They were laughing at something, and his hand was resting low on her hip. Garrett's eyes were trained on hers, and it was easy to see the comfort and love between them. Steve flipped the picture over, trying to figure out how long ago it was, and found a note written on the back.

"_Just a friendly reminder that there's a man lying in your bed waiting for you. Ditch the Captain and slum it with a Specialist tonight. I'll make it worth your while." _

Swallowing hard, Steve flipped the picture back over and looked at Emily's face. She was smiling freely, her hair pulled into a loose knot at the base of her neck. A slight flush was on her face, as if they'd just sat down from dancing. Em looked beautiful, of course. And part of that was because she looked so happy in Garrett's arms. With a heavy sigh, Steve replaced the picture and closed the book, standing to return it to the office.

Steve slipped back into the bed and curled close to Emily. Gently, he pushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear before trailing his hand down her side. She twitched and smiled slightly as he moved closer until his knee touched her leg.

Did she look at him like that? Could people see how much they loved each other in a single picture?

He wanted to think so.

Steve suppressed a groan at his own stupidity. Of course he'd known that Emily was engaged before, and that meant that she would have loved him. But knowing it and seeing actual proof of it was another thing. And it made sense that she was hesitant with him. Hell, he was surprised she hadn't gone running for the hills when he'd told her he loved her.

He needed to be more patient. She'd been saying it all along, and he just hadn't listened. It was just…Just…

Steve had never had a woman be interested in him the way she was. And he wanted to make sure she'd be with him, for better, for worse, for richer, and for poorer. Because it almost scared him how much he felt for Emily. The thought of losing her was almost too much to bear.

Gulping, he reached for her, jostling Em as he pulled her into his arms. She frowned and groaned but settled against him as he held her tightly with arms that still felt too big for him, and resting her forehead on a chest that was too broad. Steve closed his eyes and tried to focus on the moment.

Emily chose to be with him.

She loved him.

When the alarm clock started to beep, he felt her shifting and reluctantly loosened his grip on her. Rolling away from him, Em slapped the snooze button before returning to her spot, frowning against Steve's chest. "Nine more minutes," she said, her voice rough with sleep.

"Nine more minutes," he agreed, his thumb stroking her side.

OOO

"Dr. Harthorn!" the front desk operator said as they hurried towards the front door. "Dr. Harthorn, you've got a package."

"Can I get it after work?" she asked, hand on the door to push it open. She and Steve were both running late, as the nine minute snooze had been hit a few times, neither of them willing to go back to work after their extended vacation.

"We're sending it back today," the older man said. Emily huffed and tossed Steve the keys.

"Be out in a minute. Get the car?" Steve nodded, still looking a bit upset about something, and walked outside after pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Ok, sorry," she smiled at the desk attendant, "we're just running a bit late today."

"Not a problem, had those day myself," he nodded, pulling out a large leather bound book and flipping it open. "Just sign here and I'll get it for you." Em jerked a nod and quickly scribbled her signature and tossed the pen down, tapping her foot as he came back into sight with a basket in hand.

"I thought it was a package," Em said, her eyebrow arching. He nodded and handed it over.

"It is," he smirked. "Have a nice day. Don't want to be late for work now, do you?" She bit her lip and took the handle, looking down at the bottle of her favorite white wine and champagne nestled against a leopard print Snuggie, a box containing a fancy wine opener, two glasses, a few Kit Kat bars (her go-to stress candy), and an assortment of take out menus that all looked promising. The only thing missing was a note.

"Did someone drop this off?" He nodded, picking up his newspaper again. "Did they leave an address for you to send it back to?"

"No, but my little lie got you to stop and take it, didn't it?" he winked. "The wine was starting to get tempting."

"Do you remember what they looked like?"

"Wasn't on duty then, and the other guy took a job at a fancy hotel somewhere in Midtown."

"Well that's convenient."

"Your boyfriend's waiting for you, Doc. Don't want to be late for work now, do you?" With a quick glance at her watch, Em squeaked and dashed for the door. Steve had pulled the car right up to the curb and was looking at her expectantly.

"Who sent you that?" he asked when she slid into the passenger's side.

"You guess is as good as mine," Em sighed, plucking one of the take out menus from the basket. There were a few items on it ticked, ones that she would have chosen to try. Something tightened in her stomach, something that felt a lot like panic and uneasiness, and the feeling that she was being watched.

OOO

There'd been a hurried kiss at S.H.I.E.L.D. when they split off, her to the conference room and him to his room to drop off his things. The basket had been left in the car, and Em tried to shake off the foreboding feeling. All of the gifts felt too personal for someone to have sent them without thought. Her heart raced at the idea of having a stalker, and she half hoped that the basket was a bad joke on Carter's behalf, but he had quickly texted back that he hadn't sent her anything.

Em didn't voice her uneasiness to Steve, though. Worrying him would only cause him to be more overprotective. And with his nightmare at the cabin, it was the last thing she wanted to do. So she pinned on a fake smile as Steve said he'd be over to see her after his meeting with Thompson and set about her work.

As her computer booted up, Em pushed the unwelcome thoughts away and looked at her lists pinned to the walls. They'd covered good portion of the history, but they were severely lacking in the music/movies/cultural references areas (there'd been a tense moment at the wedding when a Beatles song had come on, said he'd never heard of the band. Thankfully, a few beers in, her cousins had thought he was joking).

Decision made. They would spend the day listening to music, watching a few flicks, and going over the cultural movements. Overall, a relaxing day.

Until then, she went to the one person in S.H.I.E.L.D. who could help her.

OOO

"Welcome back, Captain," Dr. Thompson said as he opened the door to his office. "I hope your holiday was relaxing."

"It was," Steve nodded, taking the man's extended hand and shaking it. When Thompson motioned him to the couch, he returned to his usual spot and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"You look like something's troubling you," the psychologist said after going through the usual offer of refreshments and polite discussion about the weekend holiday. Steve put his chin in his hand and covered his mouth, trying to gather his thoughts. "Last we were here, I believe Dr. Harthorn left to go on a date. Has this anything to do with that?"

"What?" he looked up, smirking slightly. Had it been that long since their last appointment? "No, Emily and I are…we're…things are fine between us."

"Good, good, I'm happy you've cleared that up. Have you been sleeping well?"

"Kind of," Steve shrugged. "When we were away, I had nightmares more often than usual. And they were…different."

"Traveling takes you from the places that you are the most comfortable, so it's not unreasonable to expect you have more frequent unpleasant dreams. I should have warned you of that. But you say they were different? How so?"

"Well," Steve leaned back and rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how much he could disclose without becoming a gossip. "There was one about Emily, and she'd – she'd been shot and…"

"Ah. I feel it's safe to assume that you and Dr. Harthorn have mended your fences." When Steve nodded, Thompson sat back and pressed his fingers together. "Then I don't find it strange that you would have such a dream. Given what's happened to you, with the loss of your friends, it seems natural that you would think about the possibility of losing Dr. Harthorn. I would caution you, however, not to give too much thought to these."

"I'm trying not to, but it's hard," Steve hung his head. "It was so real."

OOO

Emily raised her fist to knock on the door and hesitated. She could hear him talking to another person, and had just made up her mind to turn around and come back later when the door opened. "Dr. Harthorn?" Agent Sitwell said, "were you waiting to go in?"

"Only if he's not too busy," Em replied. Sitwell looked over his shoulder before holding the door open wider. "Thanks," she said before ducking in.

"Dr. Harthorn, what can I do for you?" Agent Coulson asked as he stood and motioned for her to sit. She took one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"I was wondering," she paused to gather her thoughts. "Is it…Do you have anyone watching me still?" Em finally blurted out.

"No," Coulson said calmly. "Given that you are a S.H.I.E.L.D. employee, and that you've become," he hesitated for a moment to chose his words carefully, "_friends _with Agent Falsworth and Captain Rogers, we feel that you're sufficiently protected from those who would wish to do you harm." The agent gave her what might have passed as a reassuring look at any other time, but Em felt her insides go cold, and she started to shake. It started at her hands, and she quickly grabbed her legs as the panic rose in her.

"You –you're positive?" she asked, tears springing to her eyes.

"Doctor?" Coulson stood up and strode around his desk, spinning the second chair to face her. "Has there been a threat made against you?"

"N-no," her teeth were clenched now with the effort of keeping a hysterical sob from escaping. Tremors shook her body, and Coulson's eyes swept over her face.

"Tell me."

With some difficulty, Em told told him about the mystery gifts that had appeared at her door since she'd first arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D., and how she'd sometimes felt like someone was watching her. When she was steady enough, he helped her to her feet and they made the trek out to her car where he retrieved this morning's basket. Coulson examined it with a critical eye before nodding to himself and ushering her back into the building. To her surprise, he led her towards the medical wing.

Dr. Kingston quickly recognized the symptoms of a panic attack and had Emily sit down in an exam room. Coulson stayed outside and talked to the doctor for a moment before both men walked in, Kingston with a syringe in hand. "I'm just going to give you a mild sedative," he explained. "It'll help calm your nerves. If you could just take off your shirt…"

Coulson quickly stepped outside. Em's shaking fingers undid the buttons of her blouse and she shrugged off the left shoulder, holding the material to her chest. She bit into her lip and sniffled as the needle pierced her skin. "Should kick in quickly," Kingston said as he pressed a cotton ball to the small prick. After placing a bandage over it, Em pulled up her shirt. "Just rest here for a moment, and you should be fine."

"Ca-can you send Coulson in?" Em stuttered. Kingston nodded and deposited the used needle in the biohazard container before stepping outside. Coulson reentered a moment later.

"You should be feeling that sedative in a minute or two," the agent said.

"Don't tell Steve." Coulson's eyebrow twitched as he folded his hands in front of him.

"Captain Roge-"

"Is already worried enough," Em pressed a shaking hand to her stomach as she forced her voice to be steady. If she broke down again, she knew Steve would be barging in a minute later. Biting her lip again, Emily closed her eyes and forced herself to take a calming breath. "Steve…he's not…he doesn't need to be concerned with this."

"Someone is watching you, Dr. Harthorn. I think he should know."

"I'm begging you," Em pleaded. Her teeth had stopped chattering, but she was still shaking. "He's scared enough for me that this is going to be too much." Again, the agent's eyebrow twitched.

"I'm going to look into this," he said. "And I want you to be on your guard. You should look into taking a few basic courses on self-defense with our new agents. But," Coulson paused, "I won't tell Captain Rogers."

"Thank you," Em sighed, her shoulder sagging.

"I'll get the key to your room so you can rest there for a while-"

"I'm fine to work."

"-Unless you'd like me to have an agent drive you home and wait until Captain Rogers gets there." Emily felt like she'd just gotten a taste of what S.H.I.E.L.D. agents went through when dealing with him.

"Can I stay in Steve's room?" Em asked softly, her head feeling somewhat foggy. Coulson jerked a nod.

OOO

Emily thanked Coulson as he closed the door behind her. She walked across Steve's room and sat on his bed, toeing off her shoes before lying down on her side and pulling her knees to her chest.

_Not crazy. Someone's following me. I'm not losing my mind. Coulson's worried._

The sedative kept her heart from racing, but the thought still scared her. And, pathetic as it may be, she wanted Steve there at that moment. Feminist that she was, Em knew that having his arms around her at that moment would make her feel safer.

Because the person following her had access to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s underground housing.

Emily's eyes shot open and she sat up, trying to ignore the way the room spun around her. She lurched to her feet and stumbled across the room, catching her foot on the strap of Steve's bag. Her hand shot out to the doorknob and she made sure that the lock was engaged. The irrational part of her mind wanted to move to the bathroom and lock herself in there as well, but she fought that back.

Instead, she forced herself to straighten up and walked over to Steve's closet. Em pulled out one of his shirts and held it to her nose, inhaling deeply. Her muscles relaxed, but it wasn't enough. The cologne from his bag was sprayed on the shirt, and she took off hers and pulled his on.

After removing her slacks, Em tossed her clothes onto the back of Steve's desk chair and crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow tightly.

OOO

Steve ran his hand over his face and sighed. Sessions with Thompson were always so draining. "Captain."

"Agent Coulson," Steve smiled, recognizing the voice. He held out his hand and Coulson smiled slightly as he shook it. "It's been a while."

"That it has. HR just sent me your request to update your paperwork, and I'd be happy to sit down and do that with you now, if you've got some time." Steve glanced down at his watch and realized that his session had run long already.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Emily-"

"Dr. Harthorn's not feeling well," Coulson said. "She's lying down in your room at the moment."

"She's sick?" Steve frowned. She'd seemed fine that morning.

"She mentioned a headache," the agent stated. "Kingston gave her something and she's sleeping it off now. So we have plenty of time to do the paperwork before she wakes up." Steve nodded and followed him to his office, where a representative from the legal department was waiting.

The woman explained the forms, and how by making Emily his next of kin she would be able to make medical decisions on his behalf if he was incapable, inherit his money and things if something were to happen.

It was morbid to think about, but Steve felt a sense of satisfaction when he filled in her information. If something happened to him, he at least knew that she was taken care of. And it also meant, he realized, that he needed a new set of dog tags. As he signed his name, and watched Coulson sign the witness line, Steve smiled. He reached into the neck of his shirt and pulled them out, rubbing his thumb over the smooth half.

"Any way I can get these updated?" he asked, tugging the chain over his neck. Coulson looked at the dog tags and nodded.

"I'll see what I can do." He'd be damned he wouldn't get the new information on there, even if contemporary dog tag's didn't usually have it. What Captain Rogers wanted, he would get.

"Thanks," Steve smiled. "Anything else I need to do?"

"No," the woman shook her head, "we'll have these filed in the next few days. Just don't do anything life threatening until then," she added with a wry smile.

"Of course not, Ma'am," he nodded. She had to keep herself from swooning. Coulson gave her a nod and the woman gather her things and vacated the room quickly.

"While I have you here," the older man said, slipping the dog tags into the top drawer of his desk, "there's something you need to be made aware of." He motioned for Steve to sit in the chair Emily had used earlier in the day.

"Nothing too serious, I hope," Steve said, slipping into Captain America mode.

"There have been some recent investigations into Dr. Erskine's family."

"What?" Steve frowned, his hand tightening on the arm of the chair.

"Just minor ones, nothing to be seriously worried about. But, seeing as how you and Dr. Harthorn are…close," he skirted around the word, "we thought you should know. S.H.I.E.L.D. is sending to do a routine check in with Erskine's relatives, but if any were to become the target, it would be-"

"Emily."

"Yes. While we would normally have an agent watch her, given Dr. Harthorn's well known opinion on the matter, we thought you were ideally placed." Steve jerked a nod and forced his fingers to uncurl from the chair's arm, which was in danger of being broken.

"I…she's safe, though, right? You said it was a minor threat?" he forced his voice to be calm.

"She is. We're just being cautious due to the timing."

"Timing?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"With you being found, it seems like too much of a coincidence." Steve nodded again and got to his feet, wanting to see Emily more than anything at that moment.

"Anything else?"

"Yes," Coulson stood as well. "We would prefer it if you didn't mention this to Dr. Harthorn. No need to get her worked up about nothing." Steve hesitated; Emily had a right to know if someone was after her. But if this _was_ nothing, it would make her anxious for no reason. And he didn't want to do that.

"You'll let me know if anything changed," Steve said.

"Of course."

OOO

Steve grimaced as the lock clicked loudly back into place, but Emily didn't move. Letting out a sigh of relief, he walked over to his bed and kicked off his shoes, leaving them where they landed next to hers.

Emily's wearing one of his shirt, he realized as he crouched down beside the bed. Her hands were curled around the cuffs, arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. Shaking his head, he reached out and removed Em's glasses, folding them up and setting them on his desk.

Coulson was right. There was no need to worry her about this. He'd keep a watchful eye out for her.

Some first day back from vacation, Steve thought as he stood up.

OOO

When Emily woke up a few hours later, there was a moment where she panicked, not quite knowing where she was. But when she smelt Steve's cologne on her shirt and she saw her clothes hanging up on the back of the door, it all came rushing back. Em looked around, wondering where Steve was.

There was a folded note on the dresser addressed to her, with her glasses sitting in front of it. Again, her heart raced at the thought that someone, even someone she trusted as much as Steve, could have been that close to her without her realizing it.

_Emily,_

_Went to get us some lunch. I'll be back_

She stopped reading when she heard a key in the door. "You're awake," Steve smiled when he found her sitting up. "They didn't have much of a selection in the canteen, but-" Emily threw back the covers and half ran over to him, throwing her arms around him. "You alright, Sweetheart?" Steve held his arms out so that the drinks didn't spill on her.

"I'm fine," she said softly, nuzzling against his chest. This was better than the cologne on a shirt. After a moment, she backed off, taking a shaky breath. "Sorry I crashed your room." Steve shook his head and set the bag and drinks on his desk before turning back to her. With his hands now free, he pulled her towards him and gave her a proper hug, tugging his shirt up a bit more from where it sat high on her thighs. Steve tipped her chin up and pressed his lips to hers, is kiss lingering a heartbeat longer than usual.

"You can stay here whenever you want," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. They stood there for a moment, each thinking that they were protecting the other from their secret, and both trying not to blurt it out.

Emily broke first and looked away from Steve's earnest gaze. She put her hand on his chest and gently pushed, and he took the hint to drop his arms. "I should get dressed. There's work to be done," she said in a falsely chipper voice.

"Why don't we just take it easy today?"

"Just what I had in mind," Em smiled.

OOO

Steve smoothed down his jacket and looked in the mirror, smiling as he shook his head. The things he did for this woman.

They'd spent the day in bed watching movies Emily deemed culturally relevant. It had been somewhat difficult to pay attention to them at times, especially given that Em didn't change out of his shirt and that they were crowded in his bed (which, at the best of times, was a tight fit for him alone).

Em was insistent that they keep going until 5:00. At 5:01, however, she'd turned to him and asked why there were still unpacked boxes in his closet, the unpacking of which lead to this moment.

"Steve?" Emily called.

"Just a minute," he yelled back. He made sure that his ribbons were aligned with his nameplate. Once he'd made sure the SSR pins were correctly placed, Steve nodded his approval. With a final tug on the hem of his jacket, he opened the bathroom door.

Em was perched on the edge of the bed. Her teeth dug into her lower lip when she saw Steve step out of the bathroom with that crooked smile. "You look dashing," she said after a minute.

"Standard issue, Ma'am." Emily chuckled and crooked her finger, beckoning him closer. Grinning, Steve walked over and laughed when she stood up to grab hold of his tie.

"What did I tell you about calling me 'Ma'am'?" she asked, her lips centimeters from his.

"I forgot," he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist. When he tried to kiss her, though, she jerked her head back.

"Really, Soldier, what kind of woman do you think I am?"

"I thought you were my girl." Emily shook her head and stood on her toes as she pulled him down by his tie. She gave him a quick peck on the lips before releasing his tie and fixing it.

"You're damn straight." Steve shook his head and leaned down to press his lips to hers again. His hand lay flat on her lower back, pulling her closer towards him as wrapped his other arm around her waist. Emily squealed against his mouth as he lifted her off the floor. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her knees bent, so that he was fully supporting her weight.

"Have I told you I'm glad you're staying the night?"

"Even if it means having to share your tiny bed?"

"Even if it means having to share my tiny bed," Steve chuckled before kissing her again. "I've got something for you."

"Oh," Emily grinned as he set her back on her feet. "I crash your room and get presents? You're encouraging a dangerous habit, Steve Rogers." Her mood had lifted considerably throughout the day. It was harder to be scared when a super soldier had his arms wrapped around you.

"I'll take my chances," he winked before moving to his desk. From the top right drawer, he withdrew a small box. It weighed heavily in his palm for a moment before he closed his hand around it and turned back to Emily. She'd sat back on the bed.

Emily felt a moment of panic when she saw the jewelry box in his hand. It was small. The sides looked like they were leather, and the base was wooden. She could see his thumb playing with the catch on the front as he looked at it, and then slowly, Steve raised his eyes to meet hers. He looked…nervous…which made Emily's heart start to race. She took a breath, trying to control her emotions. "I…erm…" Steve said, his hand shooting to the nape of his neck. "I…this is for you."

His words put Emily at ease. She knew that, if he were actually going to propose, Steve would have been more articulate than that. Mentally scolding herself for being so stupid, Em chuckled. "Thanks." Steve smiled and sat down beside her, close enough for their legs to touch. "What is it?"

"Open it," he nodded towards her hands. Emily playfully glared at him before flipping the top of the box open and gasping.

"Steve!" It was a pair of antique looking diamond earrings studs. The circular diamonds were set in a square of white gold, with tiny diamond chips surrounding it. "They're beautiful." She turned and kissed him, one hand settling on his neck. "Thank you. But it's too much." Steve shook and pulled back.

"No, it's not." He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's just enough."

"You really shouldn't have," Emily protested even as her eyes shot down to admire the earrings again.

"I've had them for a while," Steve shrugged, leaning in to kiss her again. "They were my mother's." She jerked back, placing a hand on his chest.

"Steve, these are…I can't take them."

"Why?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Because," she said, "you can't give away your family heirlooms. You might…these should go to your wife or your daughter one day."

"Emily," Steve shook his head and took Emily's hand in his, "you're all the family I have. So please, I'm begging you, take them. My mother would want you to have them."

"You don't know that. I'm sure-"

"She would love you, Emily Rose. And she'd be happy that you were wearing those, instead of them sitting in my desk."

"St-" Steve cut her off with a kiss this time. When he pulled away, he replaced his lips with a finger.

"They're yours now." Emily looked like she wanted to protest a bit more but the way Steve was looking at her made her bite back her words. Instead, she reached up to take out the small silver studs she always wore. He glowed with happiness when she slipped the backing of the second earring on.

"Thank you," she said, snapping the box that now contained her old earrings shut. "I love them."

"You're welcome," he grinned. "They look good on you. Now, I want to ask you for something."

"What?" Emily raised an eyebrow, wondering if she'd given in too quickly.

"A picture."

"A picture?"

"Yes."

"Of what?"

"You," Steve smirked, shaking his head. "A small one, if you can get it."

"Why?"

"I've got my reasons," he said, his eyes darting to the desk drawer again. Em followed his gaze, eyes falling on the picture Dugan had sent him.

"Is this for something pervy?" she teased. "Because you've already got that picture of me, and I like it. It's…us."

"No, it's not for anything like that," Steve's ears turned red as he blushed deeply, even as he felt an a swell of happiness from her assessment of the picture. "I want it for my compass." His voice dropped on the last word, but Emily caught it. And it rendered her speechless.

She, Emily Harthorn, was going to take Margaret "Peggy" Carter's spot.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

"Steve, that's Peggy's-"

"She won't mind. She'd probably call me an idiot for not doing it sooner."

Shaking her head, Emily tilted her chin up and Steve obliged by leaning down to kiss her. When her hands fisted on the lapels of his jacket, he allowed her to pull him down and placed a hand on either side of her to hold himself up.

"You know," she said, kissing along his jaw line. "I've got a thing for men in uniform."

"Oh?" Steve said, a shiver running down his spine as her teeth grazed his earlobe.

"Definitely," Em grinned. Her hands moved from his waist to the buttons of his jacket, quickly undoing them.

"Good," he said, lowering himself slightly to trap her hands between them, effectively stopping her movement. "Because I've got a few of them."

"Are you offering to show them off?" she asked, arching her back and gently pushing him so that he rolled off of her. Emily straddled his hips and leaned down to kiss him, "Cause that could be fun."

"Emily," Steve groaned when she shifted just so, his whole body aware of her weight against him. Automatically, his hands fell to her hips, and Em smiled against his mouth, humming an inquiry. "We can't."

"We can," she countered, gently biting his lower lip. "Aren't you curious about a homerun?" His groan only seemed to egg her on, and Emily rolled her hips, making him moan against her mouth. His trousers tightened and tried to recite the Saints but his mind was going blank. When her hands tugged his shirt up and slipped under, tracing his abdominals, he forced himself to take a breath to clear his head.

"Emily, stop." Something in his tone made her pause, and Steve took advantage of it. He twisted them so that they were lying on their sides, Emily's back against the wall and her legs tangled with his.

"I swear to God," she said, panting slightly, "you have the self restraint of a Saint or something."

"There's something…I want to tell you something, but I don't want you to worry." He felt her stiffen beside him as her eyes grew wide. And the panicked look on her face made him lose his nerve.

"Wh-what is it?"

"Uh." Now his goose was cooked. What could he say? And then he latched onto the first thing he could think of. "I signed papers to make you my next of kin."

"You did what?" her voice was quiet, and an odd mixture of frustration and relief.

"In case something happens to me. You'll be the one who everything."

"Why?" Steve frowned. "I mean, why did you put me down?"

"I want you to be taken care of," he put his arm on her shoulder, but she pushed it off as she sat up. "I didn't think it would matter this much."

"You..." Em put a hand over her eyes as Steve propped himself up on his elbow and reached for her again. "God, Steve, do you know what next of kin means?"

"Yes," he said, slightly put off by her tone. He wasn't stupid.

"It means if you're killed, I'm the one who arranges your funeral."

Her words struck Steve dumb.

Of course, it made sense why she'd be hesitant to take the responsibility.

As his words continued to fail him, Emily grew paler before his eyes. So he did the only thing that he could think of doing. Steve sat up and kissed her hard, putting one hand behind her head so it wouldn't crack against the wall. "Nothing," he said when they broke apart, "is going to happen to me."

"I know you probably think it's a romantic gesture or something, making sure that I'm set if you die, but it's really not," Em said, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Emily," he shook his head, "I just…It's just a precaution. I'm going to be fine. You won't get rid of me that easily." His words had the opposite effect of calming her down. She started to shake, and Steve gathered her in his arms, wondering what he'd said. "I can change it." He felt her shake her head against his neck. "They haven't filed it yet, and I'm sure S.H.I.E.L.D. has something set up to take care of it."

"No!" Em said. "I don't…you can't have S.H.I.E.L.D. do it. I'll be your person." Her chin quivered as she tried not to sob, "You just…you've got to promise not to die on me."

"I promise," he nodded before she pulled him in for a watery kiss.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I got a lot of reviews saying that readers missed the other characters, so here you go! A mention of Carter, Dr. Thompson, Coulson, Sitwell, and Dr. Kingston all in one go!

As you can tell, we're headed back into angst-ridden waters. I hope you like this chapter =) I certainly enjoyed writing it. And now you're finally going to find out whose been sending Em gifts! I don't know about you, but I've had this idea that Coulson always plays a bit of favoritism with those he's recruited, which is why he (sort of) gave into Emily's request not to tell Steve about her worries.

Oh, and if you're wondering why started shaking when Steve said he's not easy to get rid of, I would point you to chapter nine. Another important man in Emily's life said that right before leaving, and he never came back...

As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!


	44. Chapter Forty Three

Chapter Forty Three

Steve always fell asleep before her. It could be because she'd trained her body over the years that any attempt to sleep before two in the morning meant that she would be up even later the next night playing catch up. Or it could simply be the fact that she sometimes felt like having a cup of coffee later in the evening, something that Steve was trying to get her to stop.

Or it could be because her brain functioned the best late at night, when everything else was quiet and she could concentrate.

Emily lifted Steve's dog tags from where they rested against his bare chest and the mattress, and noticed that he'd added the Saint Michael medal she'd given him to the chain. She ran her thumb across her newly inlaid name and frowned. It scared her. That would sound stupid to anyone else, given that she and Steve were already talking about marriage, because she would have become his next of kin anyways, but it still scared her. The possibility that she'd have to use her position as next of kin worried Em. Not only the funeral process (but it was a large part that made her heart stop), but also that she'd have to make medical decisions for him. It was _that_ part that had made her accept the papers when the legal department had sent them to her.

Because Emily would always act in the best interest of _Steven Grant Rogers_, not Captain America. And S.H.I.E.L.D.? Well, who knew what they'd do.

Sighing, she gently released the metal, her eyes shooting up to Steve's face when he moved, pushing her even closer to the wall. His bed definitely wasn't the ideal size, and she worried about him rolling out of it during the night and cracking his head on the desk. But he refused to let her take that spot.

Trying to make the best of the situation, Em pulled the blanket higher on her back to fight against the chill of the cinderblock walls. Her shirt would be nice, but Steve had thrown that clear across the room after he'd gotten it off of her. She'd paid him back by doing the same with his pants.

She does love him, Emily affirmed to herself. She loves the dopy smile he usually has when waking up, and his concentrated look when they're covering new material from the notebooks. But the look she loves the most is the slightly embarrassed, flustered, and adorably sexy one he gets when they're intimate.

Steve had been adamant about finding out what third base was for a woman, and after a few gentle directives, had become quiet adept at making sure Em was fulfilled. The first time she'd had an orgasm, Steve watched her with wide, satisfied (and slightly proud) eyes.

So really, being his next of kin shouldn't have been as terrifying as it was. And, at the same time, all the more dreadful.

And there goes any thought of sleep, Em sighed, pushing off the blanket and scooting to the foot of the bed. Shivering slightly, she retrieved her shirt and pulled it over her head before sitting down at his desk that she'd somewhat taken over in the past few nights they'd spent there. After putting on her glasses, Emily gently nudged aside their empty beer bottles (the only sign that it was Friday night), reached for the desk lamp and pressed the button to turn it on.

The light flared in the dark room, brighter than she'd been expecting, and Emily blinked. Her eyes shot to the bed, where Steve rolled over and frowned. "What are you doing?" he asked before putting a hand over his mouth as he yawned.

"Sorry, babe, didn't mean to wake you up. I can't sleep."

"'S the coffee," he shook his head even as his eyes drifted shut.

"Is not," she lied. Because it probably was. "I've just got a ton of stuff going on in my head and-"

"Talk to me." Steve blindly reached out for her hand and landed on her leg.

"You're half asleep. I'll just work on some translation and –Whoa, soldier." He smiled as he pulled the chair towards him; it screeched loudly on the floor. His other arm was raised to block out the light, so Em reached over and blocked it with her hand.

"Talk to me."

"Really, it's nothing. Just –"

"If you don't want to talk," Steve cut her off as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "There are other things we can do to make you stop thinking?" The question at the end of his statement made her chuckle.

"Are you insinuating that we play a bit of baseball?"

"I think I am."

"I've created an insatiable monster," Emily laughed. It turned into a shriek when he lunged towards her and pulled her out of the chair.

It wasn't long until her shirt was back across the room.

OOO

_Steve smiled at his son as he twisted to look at his new leg braces. "I'll be able to run as fast as you, Pops!" the blonde boy grinned, his brown eyes fixed on the metal strapped to his little legs._

"_Let's just take it one step at a time," Steve said, his smile dropping a little. How did he explain to his son that, without his great-grandfather's formula, it was unlikely that he would ever do that? _

"_I'm gonna go show Maman." Steve ruffled the boy's hair as he hurried from the room towards Emily's office. He followed at a cautious distance, ready to catch his son if he fell, but enough to give him the independence he craved. "Momma!" he gasped, chest heaving with the exertion, "Look!" _

_Emily turned from her desk and smiled, "Very cool. Come here and let me get a look at them." She scooped up their son and put him on her lap where he'd once fit quite sat quite comfortably, but was now being nudged away by his growing sibling. "Doctor's appointment went well?" she asked over his head, her eyes fixed on Steve's._

"_Everything's fine," he nodded and leaned against the door jam, grinning at his family. _

"_You sure?" Emily asked before kissing their son's forehead. They both knew that she was checking for a temperature as she rummaged in her desk for an inhaler. "Because last time they said that, he came down with-"_

"_I'm fine, Maman," the boy huffed, looking so much like his mother when irritated. He frowned at the inhaler but his mother gave him a pointed look, and he accepted it. "The baby's kicking me," he groaned when he handed the small tube back._

"_He doesn't mean to," Emily soothed their son, fixing his mussed hair. "He just wants you to know that he's there." She placed his hand on her stomach and held it there. After a moment, she asked, "Feel that?" Steve walked across the room and crouched down, covering both of their hands._

"_Creepy," the little boy announced. Emily and Steve laughed._

OOO

When he woke up, Steve found his hand pressed to Emily's bare stomach. For a split second, he'd expected it to be rounder, but it didn't take long to shake off the after effects of the dream. Sighing, Steve kissed her shoulder and got out of bed, making sure that the blankets fully covered her, before pulling on his pants and heading to the bathroom.

After washing his face and scrubbing it dry, Steve looked at him self in the mirror and stroked the stubble on his cheeks. He'd definitely need to shave after showering. But for now, he grabbed his toothbrush and scrubbed his teeth.

Steve didn't need Thompson to tell him what the dream meant. It was pretty obvious, even to a guy like him. But it also worried him.

Would…could that be the future? Would his kids be doomed to a life of sickness, because that's who he had been? Or would they inherit the benefits of the serum?

They'd done tests. Steve had…made his contribution…but he'd never followed up on the results. They had to be on record somewhere, though, he though while rinsing out his mouth. Even if they weren't, there had to be someone he could ask about it.

Emily was stirring when he came out of the bathroom, the beeping of the alarm clock drawing her from sleep. Smiling, Steve pulled one arm across his chest and rolled his neck as she hit the snooze button. After a minute, he lay on the ground and started his morning push ups.

The picture of the little boy was still in his mind's eye when he heard Emily groan about half an hour later, having finally stopped hitting the snooze button. Chuckling, Steve sat down and watched as she grimaced and stretched, her body going stiff under the blankets before sinking back into the bed. He watched as she rolled onto her side and forced one eye open. "Morning."

"Uh huh," she hummed, nuzzling into his pillow.

"Sleep well?" There was a slight nod as she closed her eyes again. "You getting up now?"

Emily picked up the pillow and put it over her face. Steve could just make out a muffled, "Too many questions." Laughing, he stood up and moved to the edge of the bed, pulling the pillow away. She groaned and rolled away from him but was stopped by his arm. Huffing, she settled on her back and flung an arm over her eyes.

"Coffee?" Her pink lips twitched into a smile. "I'll take that as a yes." Grinning, Steve leaned down and kissed her. Em wrinkled her nose as his scruff scratched her and slid her arm back so it rested above her head. "Giving into waking up?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed. "I was having this really good dream…"

"Yeah?" Steve asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"Mmhmm. I was back in Paris and just lounging by the Eiffel Tower."

"Sounds nice."

"It was," Emily nodded, running her hand up his arm until it curled around his shoulder. "You were sketching people and talking about going to the Louvre. 'Course, you weren't as scratchy in my dream," she teased, gently rubbing her knuckles against his cheek. Laughing, Steve leaned down to rub his face against her chest, squeezing her sides for good measure. She squirmed and shrieked with laughter, making the sheet go lower over her breasts.

"Well, there goes my idea of growing a beard," he grinned. Emily tried to bat away his hands unsuccessfully. Steve caught hers easily and pinned them over her head with one hand, his free hand wiping away the tears of laughter zigzagging down her cheeks.

"Like you would," she giggled. Smirking, Steve leaned down to capture her lips again, applying gentle pressure to her wrists when she tried to free her hands to touch him.

"I might. One day. Or not," he added when Emily scrunched up her face and shook her head.

"You with a beard would just seem odd."

"Fine," he chuckled. After a breath, he said, "I've got a question to ask you."

"Another one? And before coffee?"

"Yes, another one. And I'll get you your coffee."

"Ok. Shoot."

"Did you ever…were there any test results in your files about me?"

OOO

Steve looked at the door and then down at the S.H.I.E.L.D. ID in his hand. He hesitated, wanting to turn and walk back up the hall, onto the elevator. But this was something he needed to do, however uncomfortable it was. Emily said he might get answers. With a steeling breath, Steve swiped the ID and walked into the lab. "Hello?"

"DAMN IT! Hang on, be right there!" there was a series of bangs, as thought something had tumbled to the floor, and another series of expletives. "Fuck it all. What can I do for…Captain Rogers," Dr. Alex Flemming cocked a pierced eyebrow. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Dr. Flemming, right?" Steve asked, eyeing the teenager. The last time he'd seen this Doctor, he'd been eating lunch with Emily, way back when he'd first woken up. Of course, he hadn't known who he was. When Emily had said that Dr. Flemming was young, Steve hadn't expected _this_ young. He looked barely old enough to shave. The conversation he'd come to have just got a lot more uncomfortable.

"In the flesh. What's up?"

"Em – Dr. Harthorn," he corrected himself, "said that you explained Erskine's formula to her."

"Yeah?" Dr. Flemming scratched his tattooed neck.

"I was wondering if you'd found any of my medical records. There was…they'd done some tests that I never saw the results of." Steve forced himself to be calm. If he had the results, then no harm, no foul.

"Physicals? All of 'em. Genetics? I've got some of it. But I'm still waiting on Dr. H.'s translations of Erskine's journals," Flemming shrugged and leaned against one of the lab tables. "I want to compare them to see if she found anything new in them."

"Do you have enough information to know that… if I were to, that is, one day," Steve stumbled on his words, his face going bright red (so much for composure) before he spat out a single word. "Children."

"You and Dr. H already talking about kids?" the younger doctor grinned.

"No," Steve's hand flew to the back of his neck, rubbing it self-consciously. The last thing he wanted was for word of this conversation to get back to Emily. She already wasn't thrilled that news of their relationship had already gotten around to pretty much everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. Granted, her staying in his room was a dead give away, but still, they acted as though it was a given. "I just, I wanted to know – hypothetically – would I pass on…"

"The serum effects?" Dr. Flemming stroked his chin and nodded smugly.

"Yeah," Steve nodded, wanting this over as soon as possible.

"Maybe. How much of this did Erskine explain to you before?"

"Not a lot," he admitted. "I wasn't one for science in school." What was meant to be an under the breath scoff met Steve's ears clearly.

"There goes any hope of finding the secret." Louder, Flemming said, "We'll do the science for dummies version then."

"Thanks," Steve bit his tongue to keep from retorting.

OOO

Emily curled onto her side and drew her knees up to her chest, fighting against the growing panic. She couldn't _breathe_. Her lips opened to draw in a deep breath but her lungs wouldn't work.

"Ready?" Sharon asked, stepping into Emily's view. Finally, sweet oxygen entered Em's lungs and she coughed hard. After a few shuddering breathes, she sat up and shook her head.

"Break," she gasped.

"You're not going to get a break if someone's attacking you. On your feet, Harthorn."

Em glared up at Sharon before shakily climbing to her feet. Yes, she should be grateful that the agent volunteered to teach her some basic self defense, but that didn't mean she couldn't hate her for it. She sure as hell wasn't going to thank her for the bruises that were sure to follow. "Ready," Em lied.

Sharon stood still for a moment, her hands loosely at her side. Em tensed with every small movement the other woman showed, whether it was moving a finger or squinting her eyes.

And then she was on her back again. Em had dodged the fist but missed the leg knocking out her feet. "Are you even paying attention?" Sharon demanded. "I've got you that way four times now."

"I'm sorry my first reaction is to not get punched in the face," Em spat, pushing herself up.

"You get distracted by the obvious strike," Sharon stated. "Your attacker isn't going to tell you what he's doing. You need to watch his every movement."

As much as she hated it, Em knew this is what she needed. If Steve were to teach her self-defense, he would be careful with her. And that's not how she learned. Em was best at immersing herself in something, and if that meant getting her ass handed to her? Well, that's what it took.

But she was still allowed to bitch, especially when there was a combination pulled punch followed by being thrown across the room. Em arched off the ground, pain shooting up her spine, and rolled to the side, putting her forehead on her arm. She bit her lip against the string of curses threatening to burst out of her mouth, and tried to hold back the tears of pain.

"You okay?" Em looked up to see a familiar looking man crouched down in front of her. His blue eyes swept her face before he glanced over his shoulder to where Sharon was standing, her hip jutting out and arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm fine," she sighed, pushing herself up onto her knees and trying to ignore the throbbing along her back. A calloused hand reached out to help her up, and she gladly took it.

"She's fine, Barton," Sharon huffed. "Don't you have someplace to be?"

"Training. But I could brush up on some hand-to-hand," he smirked. "How about it, Carter?"

"A bit busy at the moment, thanks."

"I think Dr. Harthorn could use a break." Em raised an eyebrow in surprise; she'd never met him before. "Besides, we haven't sparred before."

"I'm on a schedule."

"Worried I'll show you up in front of everyone?" Sharon cocked an eyebrow and relaxed her stance, her eyebrow twitching.

Emily backed away as the two stood absolutely still, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Unlike her, neither agent flinched when the other twitched.

When Sharon feinted to the left, Barton caught her and threw a punch that she easily dodged. She grabbed his arm and tried to twist it behind his back, but Barton slipped her grip and kicked out at her knees.

Sharon jumped and rolled out of the way as he continued the assault. By this point, a few other agents in the gym had gathered around, watching the two. Emily tried to melt into the crowd, pressing her sore back against the padded wall. It was obvious that Sharon had been holding back on her, and she felt bad about her internal bitching…somewhat.

Not that it wasn't gratifying to see the agent getting _her_ ass handed to her for a change. And there was no denying it. Barton seemed to have the upper hand, but only slightly.

When Sharon's back hit the floor, she glared up at the other agent as he pushed his forearm against her throat, and tapped the mat. Smirking, Barton stood up and offered her a hand up, but she ignored it. "I hope you were watching," Sharon huffed, turning sharply to look at Emily. Her eyes darted to the other agents who, smirking, turned their attention back to their training.

"Uh," Em said, raising an eyebrow.

"I've things to do. We'll schedule another session later."

"Okay?" With that said, Sharon strode out of the gym.

"She doesn't like being shown up," Barton chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It was impressive," Emily smiled, pushing a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear.

"Just a warm up," he shrugged. "I'm Clint, by the way. We haven't officially met, but –"

"Oh!" Em said, her eyes widening. "Ok, now I remember. You're partners with Natasha." The shopping trip she'd taken with Natasha Romanoff seemed like ages ago.

"Yeah."

"I haven't seen her for a while.

"You usually won't. Nat's out on assignment."

"Ah," Em nodded. "Well, thanks for, uh, the…" she motioned to the mat.

"Carter was overstepping. Besides," he shrugged again, "you're one of Coulson's."

"I'm 'one of Coulson's'?"

"Let's just say," Clint eyed her, "he's got a soft spot for his recruits."

OOO

Steve opened the door to his room and quickly stepped in upon seeing his girl standing in a towel…only a towel. "Looking for something?" he asked, a smile in his voice as he watched her rummage around in the bag she'd brought over a few days before.

"Anything I haven't worn already," Em huffed, upending the duffle. Her clothes tumbled to the floor. "Everything is dirty! Ugh!" Shaking his head, Steve walked to his closet and toed off his shoes, nudging them into the right spot. Em was shoving things back into the bag, unsatisfied with her search. She stood and walked over to his closet, nudging him aside with her hip. "I'm going to borrow a shirt."

"Ok," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. Steve leaned down and kissed the water droplets on her shoulder; his free hand reached up to squeeze her breast, and Em laughed.

"Was Alex able to tell you what you needed?" Steve shook his head.

"No. But I don't have to worry about that now." He nudged her towel down a bit further.

"You're not helping with the whole getting dressed thing."

"Did you tell me before that part of getting dressed is getting undressed?" Em laughed.

"Maybe. Possibly. Yes." He laughed.

"Do you have plans for today?" he asked, shifting her wet hair from her neck and kissing her there as well.

"No," she bit her lip.

"Good," he said, tilting her head up to capture her lips. "I've got plans for us."

"Do you now?" she smirked, turning in his arms.

"Yes I do," he grinned.

OOO

Both Emily and Steve had been reluctant to let the other leave their sight. Steve had walked her up to her apartment, holding her hand tightly in case they needed to turn and run. Em had steeled herself, knowing that she needed to do this or she would never be able to go back to her apartment again. He'd lingered, half wanting to cancel the day's plans and stay with her. But Em had gently pushed him out and offered her car keys, which he'd declined.

Still, her apartment seemed less comfortable when Steve left. To counteract that, she turned on her music loudly, turning her iPod to the punk-pop bands playlist she wasn't quite sure Steve was ready to be introduced to. While singing along to Paramore, she'd thrown her clothes in the laundry basket and gone though the mail that had piled up again. One larger than average envelope caught her attention. Emily smiled and ran her finger over the engraved cream cardstock.

_Anthony Stark_

_Of_

_Stark Industries_

_Cordially invite you to the grand reopening of _

_Stark Towers_

_And the_

_Seventh annual benefit for the_

_New York Police and Fire _

_Widows and Orphans Fund_

_Of Saturday, the twenty eight of _

_July_

_Two thousand twelve._

_Reception at six o'clock_

_Dinner at seven o'clock_

_Stark Tower_

_200 Park Avenue_

_New York City, New York_

_Black tie_

Behind it was a folded sheet of paper.

_Emily, _

_I hope this one gets to you. The other invitation I sent was returned. Hope to see you and Steve!_

_Pepper_

Shaking her head, Em smiled. Well, looks like she needed to find a dress.

OOO

Two hours later, Emily looked up from her book in surprise when there was a soft knocking at her door. "Just a minute," she called, getting off the couch and padding over. After glancing through the peephole, she opened the door. "Hey."

"Hi," Steve said. "Ready to go?"

"No. Come on in," she said, standing on her toes to kiss him. He held her against him, reassuring himself that she was fine after their short time apart. The corner of his mouth tipped up when he saw that she was still wearing his shirt, albeit there was another underneath it and belted at her waist. "Going to tell me what we're doing?"

"It's a surprise," he stated.

"When are we going to do whatever you've got planned."

"Now." She glanced out the window at the overcast sky.

"It looks like it's going to rain." Steve shrugged.

"It'll hold off," he said confidently.

"If you say so," she chuckled before walking into her room and throwing on a pair of flats. Steve watched as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with bobby pins and smiled. "Can I get a hint?" Em asked.

"No," he replied, holding out a light jacket for her. She shrugged it on and grabbed her purse, slinging it across her chest, and putting her sunglasses on the top of her head.

"Fine," she huffed as Steve held the door open for her. Once it was locked, they took the stairs and stepped out onto the street. Emily turned towards her car, but Steve grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a black and chrome Harley-Davidson parked right in front of them.

"What do you think?" he grinned. Emily looked from the bike to Steve and laughed. The childish delight in his eyes was too endearing.

"This is yours?" He nodded and pulled her closer to examine the bike. "It's nice," she said. Seeing Steve's smile falter a little, she quickly added, "I know absolutely nothing about motorcycles. Aren't Harley's supposed to be really good?" Steve shook his head and got on the bike, slipping on the Aviator sunglasses she'd bought him.

"You may be the smartest dame I know, but you've still got a lot to learn," he teased her. Still smiling, he held out his hand for her and Emily rolled her eyes before taking it and getting on behind him.

"My mother will kill you if something happens to me, you know. She hates motorcycles."

"I don't doubt it, but I've been driving them since before she was born," he said as Emily slid her glasses onto her nose and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was surprised by how much of a good mood he was in. "Ready?"

"Yeah." He started up the bike and pulled away from the curb. She clutched him tightly when he sped up, letting out a small yelp. He must have heard it, because she felt him laughing.

Emily watched as New York whooshed past. They drove for nearly an hour, leaving what had become familiar in the last few months far behind. As they got closer, Emily finally figured out where they were.

"Coney Island?" she asked as he pulled the bike up to a meter and shut off the engine.

"I came here with my Ma," he explained, "and Bucky." Still looking at the various rides, he held his hand over his shoulder and Emily took it to dismount. When he turned to smile at her, she caught sight of her hair in his reflective sunglasses and scowled. "What?" he asked.

"Hold still," she ordered, pulling out the bobby pins and holding them between her teeth. He laughed when he realized what she was doing.

"Are you using me as a mirror?" She nodded while wrenching the hair tie from her windswept hair and shook it out. Her fingers tore at the tangles but she eventually smoothed it out and checked her reflection in Steve's glasses. He laughed and cocked an eyebrow when she began to insert the bobby pins. "Can I get up now?"

"Sure," she said, sticking the last pin in. Steve laughed again and stood up after making sure the bike was steady on the kickstand. Once he was sure his new toy wouldn't topple over, he walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him before kissing her. Em laughed when she felt him smiling against her lips. "What?"

"Bucky," he said, shaking his head. "He used to tell me that Coney Island was the second best place to bring a girl on a date." Em reached up to thread her fingers through his hand that was resting on her shoulder as they walked towards the boardwalk.

"Second best?"

"The best was dancing, because you got to hold her against you without needing an excuse. This," he smirked as her hip bumped his leg, "because she'd probably be scared on the Cyclone."

The boardwalk was busy given the less than perfect weather. The sky was darker by the ocean and the wind stronger. Still, Steve couldn't help but grin. Everywhere he looked, he saw ghosts of the past. He could picture Bucky sitting on the rails, looking at the women walking on the beach below. He could see his mother tilting her head back to soak up the sun on one of her rare days off.

When Em had tried to pay for her wristband to ride the Cyclone, Steve had pushed her hand away. He wasn't going to let her pay for anything on their official first date. And, after an eye roll, she'd let him.

This time, he didn't get sick after riding the coaster.

Emily had demanded that they play Whac-A-Mole, and had shrieked with indignity as he reached over to block her mallet when she got close to beating him. She'd gotten him back by nudging him when they played Skee ball. Both had thrown the water racer game when a little boy had joined them, and Steve had won her a small stuffed animal in the goblet toss. On the Ferris wheel, she'd leaned against him and told him it was the best first date she'd been on.

The best part, though, had been when Emily disappeared as he got them some hot dogs from the new Nathan's stand. "Here," she said, bounding back up to him. She took one of the hot dogs from him and handed him a strip of photos.

In the first, Emily was smiling sweetly at the camera. The second had her tilting her head down and giving the skeptical look she gave whenever she thought he was lying about something. Her third picture was blowing a kiss. The final was of Em cocking her head to the side and biting her lip, looking like she was trying not to laugh.

"I didn't know what you wanted," Em shrugged. Grinning, Steve handed her his hot dog and dug in his pocket for a moment.

"It's perfect," he said, tearing off the last picture and putting the others in his pocket. Steve flipped open his compass and maneuvered the photo into place, tucking the corners so that it fit. "There." Emily leaned against him and looked at her picture; part of her still felt guilty about taking Peggy Carter's spot, but those thoughts were pushed away when he snapped he compass shut and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Thank you," he said after pressing his lips to hers.

"You're welcome," Em smiled, chasing his lips as he pulled away.

OOO

Their drive back to the city had been relaxing. At least until it had started to rain.

Emily darted into the apartment building, laughing as Steve appeared behind her. "I look like a drowned rat," she giggled, squeezing her ponytail; it dripped against her shoulder.

"No you don't," he wiped a strand of hair that was plastered to her forehead out of her eyes. There was a rustling sound, and they both looked over to see the doorman looking at them over his paper. Em bit back a laugh, grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him over to the stairwell. He held the door open for her as she raced up the steps, him right behind her. When they were outside her door, she smiled when he leaned down and pressed a kiss into her hair.

The door snapped shut as Em peeled off her jacket and tossed it over one of the bar stools, where it was quickly joined by Steve's. As she pulled out the hair tie again, he stepped up behind her and kissed her shoulder. "There's clean towels in the bathroom," she said, fluffing her hair.

"Yeah," Steve said, his hands working at the belt around her waist. It fell to the floor and he kicked it away.

"Towels," Em laughed.

"Yup." Steve spun her around and pushed his shirt off of her shoulders, leaning down to capture her lips. He crowded her backwards until her shoulders hit the wall, and he reached down to tug her camisole over her head. Goosebumps spread across her chest and arms as his cold hands ghosted down her sides.

Emily shrieked as his hands wrapped around her thighs and he lifted her off the ground, her flats falling off of her feet. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips as he deepened their kiss. Steve's hips jerked against her, and Em moaned at the friction. She'd be lying if she said the motorcycle ride hadn't gotten her a bit worked up. "Steve," she groaned against his mouth. The connection between her brain and mouth seemed to disappear when he kissed down her chest and nudged aside her bra.

And then the wall behind her was gone, and Em threw out her arms, wrapping them securely around Steve's neck. The moment was somewhat ruined when he started to laugh against her collarbone. "Sorry," he chuckled. "I wouldn't have dropped you."

"You say that, but you seem a bit distracted," she said, raising an eyebrow. Her legs tightened around him when nipped at her lower lip.

"Wouldn't let it happen," he assured her while walking towards her bedroom. Smirking, Em let go of his neck (Steve quickly adjusted his grip so she didn't so much as waiver), and unbuttoned his shirt.

Steve set her on the edge of the bed and followed her as moved towards the middle of the bed. Grinning, he shed his shirt and undershirt before reaching behind her and unsnapping her bra. Em gave him an appreciative look, a mental golden star, for the recently acquired skill. He gained a few more when he took one nipple in his mouth, pressing the flat of his tongue against it, and rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger.

He loved the little gasps and moans she made, and the soft whimpering when he pulled away. They both reached for the other's pants at the same moment, and Em batted his hands away, deftly undoing the belt, button, and zipper. Steve groaned as she reached and took him in hand, stroking him until he was fully erect. There was some awkward maneuvering as Em pushed his pants down; he rolled onto his side and kicked off the khakis and his briefs. When Em tried to push them off the bed, though, his hand shot out to catch them.

"Hang on, Sweetheart," he hissed as she ran her thumb over the slit. "Need to grab something." Em raised an eyebrow as he pulled out his wallet and produced a square foil packet.

"Yeah?" she asked, her eyes darting from it to him.

"Yeah," he nodded, letting his pants fall to the floor.

"You sure?" Steve pulled her down so that she was half lying on him and kissed her hard, his free hand undoing the button of her jeans.

"Sure." Emily gasped against his mouth as he pulled her jeans down far enough to slip is fingers under the band of her panties.

"Because," she bit her lip as he stroked her, "we don't have to."

"Want to," he said, rolling over to push her back against the mattress.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve grinned, kissing down her chest and stomach. With a quick tug, he pulled her jeans completely off.

"Thank god," Emily breathed, pulling him back up. "But for future reference, no condoms in the wallet."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve chuckled.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So sorry about the delay in updating, guys. I had a bit of writer's block which coincided with catching the oh so wonderful flu! Yay for missing work... Anyways.

So not a lot to say about this chapter. Except that Em and Steve staying at SHIELD makes sense in my head. Yes, her stalker has access to SHIELD, but he obviously knows where she lives as well. If they at least stay at SHIELD, there are more people around who might notice something.

The dream was inspired by a piece of fan art that I had sent to me by **blown-transistor** (who has a new story out, BTW), but I don't know who to credit it to.

Hope you guys liked this one, and that it wasn't too rushed. Lots to put in, and hopefully you didn't forget it all in the 'WOOHOO THEY FINALLY HAD SEX!' moment, lol.

As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you think! You guys are awesome!


	45. Chapter Forty Four

Chapter Forty Four

_Hold onto hope, love__  
__I've searched high and low for you__  
__For you__  
__Each day gets closer__  
__So hold on stronger to me__  
__And you__Someday soon,__  
__I'll find you__  
__Someday soon,__  
__I'll know you__  
__Someday, ooooh oh__  
__Yeah, oh_

_Hold Onto Hope Love – Amy Stroup_

* * *

Steve smiled into the pillow as he woke up. He was so incredibly comfortable, but one thing could make this moment even better. Groaning low in his throat, he rolled over and flung out an arm.

It fell onto an empty bed.

He groped for Emily for a moment before opening his eyes and seeing the blanket and sheets thrown back. She was nowhere in sight. Frowning, Steve propped himself up on an elbow and looked around the bedroom, finding it empty save himself. The bathroom door was open, but the bedroom door was slightly ajar.

The apartment was quiet, which was what made him roll out of bed and pull on his pants. Em usually wasn't able to stay quiet for so long in the morning; she was the kind of girl that needed music or the news on while she got ready.

Steve pulled open the door and looked out to see an empty kitchen and living room. "Emily?" he called. No answer. Sighing, he smirked and shook his head when he saw that her office door was closed. Of course.

Emily had her back to him and those white wires hanging from her ears again when he pushed the open silently. He took a minute to appreciate the sight of her sitting with one leg pulled up and her chin on her knee, glasses resting on her nose. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and Em wearing his discarded shirt from yesterday with the sleeves rolled. She flicked a pen between her fingers while staring intently at the screen, jotting something into the notebook every once in a while.

As he watched, Emily leaned back and rolled her shoulders, grimacing slightly as she tilted her head to the side. It was only then that he noticed the bottle of aspirin sitting beside her coffee. There was a lurch in Steve's stomach as he watched her stretch her neck and reveal the red marks he left there the night before. She must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, because she pulled the wires from her ears and smiled at him.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked before she could say good morning. By the set of her eyebrows, Steve can tell that she's confused by his question.

"Hurt me?" she said, her voice rising on the second word as she spun the chair around to face him. "Not in a million years." He hesitated a moment when she reached out a hand for him, the other turning over the notebook and lowering the screen of her laptop.

Steve walked over and took her hand, leaning down to press his lips to hers when she tipped her chin up. "You sure?" he asked, nudging the aspirin bottle. Em looked at it and smiled, shaking her head.

"Sharon kicked my ass yesterday at the gym yesterday," she stood up and brushed his hair back from his face, standing on her toes to kiss him. "How are you doing?"

"I'd be better if you were in bed with me," he smirked. Emily chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her against his chest. His other hand traced the line of bruises on her neck and throat. "These? Do they hurt?"

"Nope. But I'm kind of mad right now." That startled him.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Yeah," she huffed. "I remember seeing some pretty big love bites right here –" she pointed to his neck and chest, " – before we fell asleep. And they're freaking gone! Do you know how long these are going to take to disappear?"

Relief flooded his body and Steve started to laugh, his whole body shaking. Emily raised an eyebrow and chortled before he pulled her forward to kiss her again. "I love you."

"Love you too, babe." When his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass, Emily laughed against his mouth. Grinning, Steve leaned down to nuzzle her neck.

"How about we go back to bed and start the morning right?" Steve asked.

"It's already the afternoon," Emily chuckled when he turned to look at the clock on the wall and his eyebrows shot up.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You could use the sleep," she shrugged and then quirked an eyebrow. "We can pretend that it's still morning. And I think I can get used to mornings like this," she nodded, feeling him hard against her. "But I swear to God, you're going to have to buy me a new bottle of concealer if you leave any more of these." Em pointed to the love bites on her neck and smirked.

"Deal," he chuckled, quickly crouching to sweep Em off her feet. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. Steve lifted her high enough to easily plant a kiss on her, easily maneuvering them through the apartment and back to her bedroom. After he set her down on the edge of the bed, Em scooted back towards the pillows, yanking out the hair tie. Her hair curled around her shoulders and Steve stopped to just look at her.

"What?" Emily asked, confusion coloring her voice.

"You are so beautiful." Blushing, Em looked down, making her hair curtain around her face as she bit her lip. Steve knelt on the bed and reached for her, putting his hand on her neck and tilting her chin up. He leaned down to soothe the teeth marks on her lips and gently pushed her back so that she was lying beneath him. She sighed against his mouth when their kiss ended, and Steve rested his forehead against hers.

The question was on the tip of his tongue. Two words. A simple request.

One that he knew she's say no to.

Not for a year.

It didn't stop him from wanting to ask it.

OOO

After setting the reset button on their morning, Steve and Em didn't get out of bed until around three in the afternoon. They'd spent the entire time in each other's embrace, talking and laughing and figuring out each other's little quirks.

Em found out that Steve liked to draw pictures on her skin with his fingers, and she returned the favor, etching French words into his back and translating them for him. Steve discovered that Emily had a scar under her chin from a bike accident when she was seven, and found out the one on the back of her leg was from the falling on a piece of glass when she was drunk at a party in college that had resulted in a trip to the hospital for her second set of stitches.

Steve told her about his parents and how they'd worked so hard in the US, trying to make a better life for their sickly son. She's held him tightly when he told her about his father's anger problems and his mother's death. With a catch in his throat he told Em about being turned out of their little apartment, and struggled to make ends meet until he'd met Bucky and they'd gotten a room at a boarding house together. When her eyes glazed with unshed tears at that, Steve shook his head and assured her that everything had turned out for the best.

She'd tried to steer them clear of another depressing topic and instead regaled him with stories of growing up with a brother eleven years her senior. Steve had smiled when Em told him about Tucker showing up at her school to tell off an older bully who broke her new glasses and made her cry. Then there was that awkward moment when he'd been home for a visit when she went on her first date at sixteen, and Tuck and her father had given the Michael Gomez the scare of his life (needless to say there wasn't a second date). When Steve told her that Tucker had done the same to him at the family reunion, Emily groaned and put a hand over her face.

And when Steve was between her thighs again, Emily knew that she could spend the rest of her life with him.

OOO

"Dr. Foster, might I borrow Darcy for a moment?" Carter asked after tapping the door of Jane's converted office. Too involved in her data to care, Jane waved him off. Darcy, however, raised an eyebrow and pushed aside her computer, where she'd been attempting to transcribe Jane's notes.

"What's up?" she asked when they were outside. Carter didn't say anything but jerked his head towards the abandon bar, which had become their meeting spot. Darce caught that and gave a subtle nod. They'd been attempting to keep their…whatever they were doing…a secret from everyone in Puente Antiguo and S.H.I.E.L.D.

Once inside, Darcy stripped off her jacket and tossed it over the bar before reaching into the neck of her shirt and adjusting her bra straps. "Again, what's up?" she smirked.

"I'm headed back to New York."

"Oh." Carter hung his head and sighed.

"I've apparently had enough time to 'Cool my heels' or whatever the saying is."

"Well that's good," Darcy tried to keep her voice light. "Back in the field, being a bad ass? Sounds like your kinda thing."

"For a while more, at least."

"Yeah…"

"Have you given any more thought to London? Or New York?"

She lowered her head and chewed on her lip, "Some."

"If this is about asking Emily for a Letter of Recommendation, I told you, she won't have a problem doing it."

"I'm not applying to graduate school."

"What?" Carter took a step towards her and tipped her chin up so that she'd meet his eyes. "Why not?"

"I'm taking a year off from school. S.H.I.E.L.D. offered to hire me on for a while, at least until Jane's done out here. And after that I'll figure out."

"Ok, whatever you want," he nodded. "As long as we notify them that we're in a rel-"

"I'm staying in New Mexico, Carter. You're going to New York. And then England." Her tone was flat, and her eye darted away from his.

"Ah," he said sadly. "I understand."

"I'm sorry," Darcy said, biting her lower lip. "It's just…we never talked about…and long distance doesn't-"

"You don't need to explain," Carter cut her off. "I get it."

"Besides, I couldn't keep up with you." She felt the need to explain, even if he didn't want one. "You're amazing, Carter, really. But you need someone who can handle the whole 'next in line to be Lord Falsworth slash S.H.I.E.L.D. agent' thing, and that's just not me. I can handle one kind of crazy, not both."

"I know." With a sigh, Carter leaned down to press his lips softly to hers. Darcy felt his sadness and loneliness in that kiss, and almost took back her words. But she'd done the right thing. He needed someone that wanted the whole wonderful, wake you up with coffee and listen to you rant about your boss, amazingly sexy British accent, could kill you with his pinkie, lordly package. And that just wasn't her. "If you're ever in New York or London…"

"I will," she nodded. Carter's lip twitched into a smile as he curled a strand of her hair between his fingers.

"I'm glad to have met you, Darcy Lewis."

"Right back 'atcha," she smirked.

OOO

"No, you need to lift it higher," Emily sighed, struggling to keep the frame of the futon from falling on her foot and making sure the screws lined up.

"Yeah?" Steve grunted in frustration before setting his side on the ground and huffing. "You sure you need this thing?"

"I didn't cart it all the way up here from North Carolina for nothing," she rolled her eyes. The futon was the _only _big piece of furniture she'd brought with her. Only problem was that it was MUCH easier do disassemble than reassemble. "Just leave it, I can do this some other time."

"Let's just finish it," Steve sighed before sitting on the ground and angling the metal frame into place. "But I don't know why you want it. You've already got a bed."

"Guest bedroom, babe. Besides, I like having a couch to study on."

"You live alone so you can sit on the couch, and I know for a fact that it folds out into a bed."

"My apartment, my furniture," she snapped. Her sudden change of tone made Steve look up. Realizing that she was being unnecessarily sharp, Em hung her head. "Sorry. I've had this thing for years. It's just…"

"I get it." Steve slid the screw into place and shrugged while reaching for the screwdriver. "It's got sentimental value."

"Yeah, something like that." Her eyes flitted over to the other half of the frame; it was slightly bent with over use, and the whole thing probably should have gone in the trash, but she hadn't been able to throw it away. Hell, the thing was over five years old, but still. It was her one thing she'd brought from her old house, her old life.

After they'd finally assembled the damn thing and thrown the two mattresses over it (the second had been an attempt to make the thing more comfortable, but really just made it sag more under the weight), Steve set about crossing off his 'Honey Do' list. Em, meanwhile, started making one of the few things she was really good at cooking.

As the chicken sautéed in olive oil and minced garlic, Emily wiggled her hips and sang under her breath to Cyndi Lauper. Steve fixed her squeaking office door. A box of spaghetti was dumped unceremoniously in the pot of rolling water as he moved to change the bathroom light bulb that Em just hadn't gotten around to. After that he had Emily show him where she wanted her diplomas to be hung up before she dashed out of the room to check on their dinner. The spaghetti was transferred into another pot and tossed with warm olive oil and crushed red pepper, and Steve put down the hammer when she called him into the kitchen.

"Looks good," he complemented as she handed him a bowl and tongs.

"I pretty much lived on this for a few months," Emily grinned before putting taking a bit of her spicy spaghetti. "It's cheap and really easy to make." Steve laughed. "Besides, leftovers for days."

Yeah, Emily smirked when she was emptying the last bit of spaghetti and chicken into a Tupperware bowl. That last bit didn't happen. But at least Steve had promised to make dinner tomorrow to make up for it.

And then her phone rang. And her night got a little darker.

Steve watched as Emily set down the pan and frowned at her cell phone. Her eyes widened a little before glancing at him. When it chimed again, she bit her lip and pressed her eyes shut before hitting the green button. "Hello? Hi Shirley."

Emily didn't look up as she walked towards the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

OOO

He waited. Em had stopped talking a long time ago and still hadn't come out of the room. The diplomas were hung and dishes cleaned, and still no Emily. When the sunset, she didn't turn on the light in the bedroom. Tentatively, Steve knocked on the door, "Emily?" No answer.

Steve pushed open the door and saw Emily lying on the bed. She was staring blankly at the walls with her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow against her stomach. "Emily?" he repeated. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said softly. When he flicked on the light, Em blinked but didn't move. And Steve saw how red her eyes were, and that she'd changed from his button down into a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his mind jumping to the worst possibility as he strode over to her. When he crouched beside her and reached out to take her hand, though, Emily pulled away. She still wouldn't look him in the eye, but instead gazed over his shoulder.

"Do you ever just feel like the scum of the earth?"

"You're not the scum of the earth."

"Today I am," she sniffled, pressing her face into the pillow.

"Who called?"

Her answer was muffled, but he definitely heard her say, "Garrett's mom." He tensed, wondering what could have made her feel this horrible.

"What'd she have to say?"

"The same stuff that Christine would have said if I answered her call this morning, and what my mom was trying to get at this afternoon." Emily sighed and swallowed hard as Steve put his hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed.

"Which is?" he prodded. Emily shook with stifled sobs.

"Today's my wedding anniversary."

The words hung heavily between them. Emily curled into a ball and hugged the pillow tightly as Steve removed his hand. Her wedding anniversary? His heart hammered in his chest. Was she saying that she'd been married to Garrett? Words failed him. "Oh," he said simply.

"It would have been a-a year," Em's voice broke on the last word and Steve felt his heart clench.

"I'm sorry." His words seemed to shake her a little bit.

"I'm sorry. You don't need to hear about this." She took a deep breath and looked at him. "I'll be ok. Just need a little bit of time."

"All the time you need," Steve nodded. "And you don't need to apologize for being upset." Emily took another breath and stood up, making Steve stand as well.

"I need to be alone." Shaking his head, Steve put a hand on her shoulder; she flinched away from him.

"No you don't." When she wouldn't meet his eyes, put a finger under her chin and made her.

"Don't look at me like that," Emily snapped, pushing his hand away and looking at the ground again.

"Like what?"

"I don't want your pity." He could hear the suppressed sob in her voice, and her chest heaved with the words. "I just need…I just wa-want to be ah-alone." Her hands quickly shot to her eyes to wipe away the tears before she dissolved into sobs. When she covered her face, Steve took another deep breath and reached for her.

"Emily-"

"Do not touch me. Don't touch me," she begged, trying to push out of his embrace. It was bad enough that she was falling apart, she didn't want him to comfort her. She wanted to be alone. But Steve had one arm wrapped around her waist and the other pressing her to his chest. She fought to stand straight, but placed her forehead against him. "Pah-please go."

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured before kissing the top of her head. "I'm right here." She asked him again and again, but Steve wouldn't leave. Eventually, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, and he started rubbing circles on her lower back with his thumb. "I'm here for you, Sweetheart." It seemed like ages, but Emily finally stopped crying. He half expected her to push him away but she didn't.

"I'm sorry I got your shirt all wet," she said softly. He shook his head and pressed another kiss into her hair when he felt her hand wiping at the wet spot.

"It's fine. Here," he offered her the clean handkerchief from his pocket. Em took in with her shaking hand and shifted away from him to dab at her face. She didn't get too far, as Steve was unwilling to remove his arms from around her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she sniffled.

"It might make you feel better." She shook her head.

"It's just," Emily took a deep, shaky breath, "I miss him." Steve nodded. "And I'm sorry, because I know you don't want to hear th-"

"It's normal for you to miss him," he assured her. He knew that she needed him to be a friend more than anything else at that moment. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

"You know, I can't help but think how different everything would be if he hadn't," she inhaled sharply, "if he hadn't gone back over there."

"I don't know."

"Do you ever do that? Think about what would have happened if you hadn't…if…"

"If I hadn't crashed the plane?" his lips tipped into a sad smile. "Sometimes." Steve pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. "You know, Garrett wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."

"What?"

"He wouldn't want you to put yourself through this every year. He'd want you to be happy and move on." Emily tensed in his arms.

"Are _you_ happy that _Peggy_ moved on?"

"I am. I'm glad she found someone and had a good life. And I know Garrett would want the same for you."

"Why are you so fucking perfect all the time?" The venom in her voice surprised him.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's not that easy. I grew up with him. I planned a life with him. Then he was just gone without a goodbye." Emily chest was heaving again as she pushed away from Steve, and this time he let her. "And it's not like it's easy with the constant reminders."

"Isn't not fair of them," he agreed. "It might have been better if she hadn't called." Emily's mouth fell open.

"I just…you…you don't get it, do you? They need to know that someone else remembers Garrett and loves him. And I can do that for them, because I still love him, and I'm_ always_ going to love him."

"I understand that, Emily," Steve said, trying to calm her down. "But you can't be responsible for that many people. It's not fair to you."

"I am all they have left of him! I can't just cut them out of my life. I was going to be their daughter," her lower lip started to tremble again, so Steve stepped towards her. She stepped back, "Don't."

"Emily, I didn't mean to upset you-"

"Too late, Steve. I just…could you leave? Please?"

"No."

"This is my apartment and I don't want you here right now."

"You're mad, and when you calm down – where are you going?" Em had shoved past him and grabbed her jeans, quickly changing into them and snagging her jacket.

"If you won't leave, I will."

"Stop, Em-"

He could have stopped her as she stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door, but he didn't.

OOO

Emily half expected Steve to run out after her as she slipped on her flats and hurried down the stairs. The front desk operator looked up at her as she walked past, her hands shoved in her pockets. "Harthorn, right? I've got a delivery for you."

"I'll get it later," she huffed, leaning against the door to push it open. The streets were empty by New York standards, and she ducked her head and stared at the ground as she walked.

Steve didn't get it. He never would. _He _was the one that left people behind, people who had to pick up and move on after one of the most difficult things anyone could go through. _He _never stood by a grave as Taps played and had it echo in his ears for years. _He_ never hadn't had to figure out how to survive with a huge hole in your heart when it felt like you couldn't get a full breath. _Steve _never had to watch his things be packed up and carried away in the name of sentimental value, or give away the dog that was a present to keep away the loneliness because he couldn't take care of him without crying.

In short, Steve didn't know what the fuck he was talking about.

Shirley and Bill needed her. They had lost their only son. And if they needed her to step in and be there for them, she would do it. Because they loved her like the daughter they'd never had. Shirley had been so excited to help her look for wedding dresses and color schemes. Between Shirley and her own mother, Em hadn't been sure if she'd get to plan anything. Bill, a bit of a history buff himself, had called nearly every week to see how her classes were going and to tell her about something he'd read.

Emily kept walking, trying not to picture Garrett's face. She half succeeded. But when she wasn't picturing Garrett, she was seeing Steve.

The city air was clearing her head, and Em knew she'd been unnecessarily hard on him. With a groan, she realized that Steve _did_ kind of know what he was talking about. He'd lost both of his parents. He'd lost Bucky. And Peggy.

If they were in a life sob story competition, Steve would win every time.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. She'd really screwed up.

Garrett _would_ have been pretty pissed at how she was acting right now. He'd even told her once (while, admittedly, drunk) that, were something to happen to him, he wanted her to move on. Em had promptly called him an idiot and told him that would never be an issue.

And now she had a great guy sitting in her apartment that she really did love, even if he was entirely too perfect sometimes, and she might have just ruined everything.

Because she was an idiot.

"_Baise_," Em sighed. Still, she wasn't ready to walk back and apologize. Because, yeah, she owed him one.

Instead, she kept walking, trying to keep her head clear. But when her eyes started to get heavy, Em finally turned around and headed back to her apartment. She did stop once, though, in a small market to grab a pint of Ben and Jerry's Carmel Chew Chew for herself, and a pint of vanilla as peace offering.

The walk back was worse because Emily knew that Steve was going to be angry with her for storming out. With a sigh, she pulled open the door and trudged across the lobby. "You going to sign for your delivery this time?" the desk operator said, tapping a key on his computer to stop the movie that was playing loudly.

"What? Oh," Em sighed. "Yeah." He jerked a nod as Emily signed the delivery log.

"Here," he said, putting a vase with a dozen red and white roses next to her. She raised an eyebrow and set the pen down before looking for a card; there wasn't one.

"Who dropped these off?"

"Wasn't on duty," he shrugged, glancing back at his computer.

"There wasn't a card?"

"Nope." Sighing, Emily picked up the vase and hugged it to her chest as she walked to the elevator, jamming the up button. Once in the car, she started to rehearse her apology, trying to ignore the strong scent the roses were giving off. She'd focus on that once Steve wasn't mad at her anymore.

After adjusting her grip on the vase and small plastic bag, Em unlocked the door to her apartment and pushed it open. Steve was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, but his eyes shot towards her the minute she stepped inside. His hair was disheveled as though he'd been running his hand through it since she left, and his jaw was clenched like he was trying to keep from yelling at her.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous the city is at night?" he said quietly as he stood.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, setting the flowers and ice cream on the island counter. "I shouldn't have walked out-"

"You're damn right you shouldn't have walked out! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" Steve demanded, walking over to her and wrapping his hands around her arms. For a split second, Em thought he was going to shake her. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"I'm sorry," she said again. He pulled away and held her at arms length.

"You don't get to walk out when you're angry."

"I know," Em ducked her head. "I've been told it's a character flaw. I'm working on it."

"I'm not trying to be insensitive to what you went through," Steve said. The way he said it made Em think she wasn't the only one who'd been rehearsing an apology, "But you can't blame me for wanting to protect you from yourself."

"I know-"

"You know how you made me promise not to give you the silent treatment when I'm mad at you? You can't walk out on me. I'm much rather you stand here and yell than walk out that door."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Em's lip twitched into a half-smile before sighing. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I know you were only trying to help. But you have to realize, Shirley and Bill are my family too. And they're always going to need me just a little bit."

"I get that," Steve nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. "But you can't let one thing define you for the rest of your life. You can't just be Garrett's widow to them. Because you're so much more than that." Emily had thought she'd cried all of her tears for the day, but her eyes stung as she fought back a new wave. He pressed his lips to hers and stroked her jaw line.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I wasn't kidding when I said you were too perfect," she sniffled, standing on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Far from it, Doll," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Far from it." He felt her let out a shuddering breath and relax into him; Steve pressed a kiss against her neck before gently pulling away.

"I love you," she said while swiping at her eyes.

"I love you, too."

"I was afraid I was going to come back and you were going to be gone," she chuckled sadly.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Em nodded, turning to walk into the kitchen. "Accept my peace offering?" Steve opened the plastic bag and withdrew the two pints of ice cream while she pulled open the drawer and retrieved two spoons.

"Where'd you get those?" he asked, jerking his head towards the roses. "Secret admirer?" Steve's head jerked up with the spoons clattered loudly onto the countertop.

Emily felt a chill go down her spine as her eyes went wide.

A single daisy.

Her knees nearly gave out. She gripped the counter tightly, vaguely hearing Steve ask what the matter was.

"Emily?" Steve asked, hurrying around to hold her. "What's wrong?" She was shaking like a leaf in his arms. "Emily?"

"Get rid of it. Oh god, please, just get rid of it!" her voice was inching towards hysterics as her fingernails dug into his forearm. He looked at the roses and couldn't find anything wrong with them. It was only after a second look that he spotted the daisy. But even that seemed innocent enough.

"Ok. Ok, Sweetheart, I'll get rid of it." Gently, he pried her hands off of him and picked up the vase. Steve cast a worried look her way before he pulled open the door and hurried to trash chute at the end of the hall. He sprinted back to the apartment and made it before the door had even swung shut.

In that short amount of time, Emily had sunk to the floor and was rocking back and forth. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," she kept saying over and over again. Steve crouched in front of her and pulled her hands away from her arms. Her nails had pressed half moons indentations into her skin.

"Honey, you've gotta tell me what's wrong."

"Coulson said he'd take care of it. He said that it would stop," she didn't seem to hear him.

"Coulson knew about this?"

"He said it'd stop," she said again, her lower lip trembling. "Oh god, I can't do this."

"Emily," Steve adopted his Captain America voice and put his hands on either side of her face and forced her to look at him. "I need you to tell me what's wrong."

"He's following me." Steve felt his blood run cold. His mind automatically ran through whom 'he' could be. General Sanders? Ross? Had Blonsky somehow gotten free?

"Who?" Emily shook her head, her hot tears spilling onto Steve's fingers. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. "I need you to go and pack a bag, alright? Can you do that for me?" When she didn't move, Steve hung his head and forced himself to breathe. "Ok. Come on, Honey." He pulled Em to her feet and kept his arm wrapped around her waist while half carrying her to the bedroom.

Steve sat Emily on the bed and crouched down in front of her. "Emily, I need you to take a breath, ok?" He reached out and took her shaking hand, placing it over his heart. "I'm right here. No one's going to hurt you while I'm here. I just need you to calm down."

Her fingers curled around his shirt and she pulled him closer, throwing her arm around his shoulders and burying her in his neck. Steve could feel her rapid breathing on his skin, "Breathe, Sweetheart. " He took an exaggerated breath but she didn't follow his lead. Sighing with frustration, Steve pulled her back and kissed her, tasting her salty tears on her lips. When she tried to move away, he held her closer. Finally, he felt her chest stop heaving against his, and he let her go, kissing her tear stained cheeks.

"I'm scared," Emily said softly, her fingers still clutching his shirt. "Oh god, Steve, how long has he been watching?"

"You need to tell me what's going on," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

With a lot of starts and stops, Emily told him about her stalker. Steve's fist clenched in the comforter as she kept talking. When she said that Coulson knew, he had to physically stop himself from shaking her and demanding to know why she hadn't confided in him. "And then the daisy tonight," Emily hung her head and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"What about the daisy?"

"Garrett," her voice caught on the name. "On our first date. He pulled a daisy from my neighbor's yard and gave it to me."

Steve froze. That had been years ago. This person had been following Emily long before she'd gotten to S.H.I.E.L.D. Long before she'd known he wasn't just some propaganda campaign…long before she'd known who she was…

"Get a bag together," he ordered.

He needed to get her away from there.

Now.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the time between updates. There's really no excuse other than work and a trip to Paris. So to make up for that, I've made this chapter extra long. It was supposed to end much sooner, but you can thank **blown-transistor** for pushing me to put what was supposed to be in the next chapter in this one. So yay?

Mixed bag of emotions in this one. I hope everything came out well. Hopefully I can get the next chapter up before I go on an 11 day vacation in Italy starting next Friday (am I making you jealous? I hope I am, just a little, lol).

Ok, I also wanted to take the time to say thank you to all of my wonderful readers. You guys seriously make my day. I love opening my inbox and seeing that another person has decided to follow the story, or favorite it, or leave me a lovely review. So that you to all 715 of you who read this for the 800+ reviews. Thank you to those who aren't following but check back every once in a while. Those of you who don't have private messaging activated, or don't have an account but sign on as a guest, THANK YOU! I feel bad not replying, but I love your input!

So yes, there you have it. Love fest for all. Once again, thank you for reading my little daydream, and let me know what you think.


	46. Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Five

_If your sky is falling,_

_Just take my hand and hold it,_

_You don't have to be alone, alone, yeah,_

_I, won't let you go,  
And if you feel the fading of the light,_

_And you're too weak to carry on the fight,_

_And all your friends that you count on have disappeared,_

_I'll be here, not gone, forever, holding on, Oh,_

_If there's love just feel it,_

_And if there's life we'll see it,_

_This ain't no time to be alone, alone, yeah,_

_I, wont let you go_

_I Won't Let You Go by James Morrison_

* * *

Steve had waited until Emily had fallen into a fitful sleep before calling Coulson. And the man, to his credit, hadn't acted as though he didn't know what was going on, but after a beat laid out what Em had told him. When Steve had demanded to know why he wasn't told outright, the Agent sighed. "Dr. Harthorn requested it, and I respected that, as I would any confidence you'd ask me to hold. But," he cut off Steve's retort, "I gave you a reason to be on your guard."

The call had ended shortly there after, with Steve saying he wasn't sure when they'd be back at S.H.I.E.L.D., and that he wanted to be kept informed of anything Coulson found out.

With a sigh, he hung his head and turned the phone over in his hand before slipping it onto his pocket. This was his fault, he knew it in his bones. The realization made his knees give out and he slid down the wall, the rough texture digging into his back. From this angle, he could just see Emily's outline on the bed. Another sigh as he looked away and at his hand, where her nails had dug crescent moons into his skin during their drive from the city. The skin had long since smoothed over, but he rubbed his thumb over the area anyways, wishing it would scar over, a small penance for bringing all of this trouble into her life.

They'd been here before, Steve knew. And Emily had told him to stop worrying about things that he couldn't change. But this was different. She'd seen just how much being with him could change her life.

Steve wouldn't be surprised if she left him.

The though made his eyes sting, and he blinked rapidly against the gathering moisture in his eyes.

He wasn't sure he could take losing her. But he would, if it was what she wanted. Steve loved her just enough to let her go if it meant she'd be happy.

The chasm that opened in his chest ached, his heart trying to prepare for the inevitable loss of the woman he loved. Because that was his lot in life: to have love for a fleeting moment before losing it all. Only this time, he hopefully wouldn't wake up after another 70 years.

Steve pushed off of the ground, steadying himself on the wall, and returned to the room. Once the lock and chain was in place, he peeked out the window to see if anyone was watching. He couldn't see anyone; no one was near Em's car that he'd parked in a dark corner of the parking lot (he'd wanted to take his bike, but she'd been in no condition to hold onto him). Satisfied for the moment, he stripped off his clothes and tossed them over the desk chair, knowing that he'd probably be wearing them for a few more days.

It broke his heart to see Emily curled up, her eyes red and swollen, with his tearstained and bloody handkerchief clenched in her hand. Steve tugged the fabric from her hand and swiped at the dried blood under her nose.

Emily woke up with a gasp, sitting up quickly. "Wha?"

"Sorry, Sweetheart," he said quickly, holding his hands up. "Didn't mean to wake you." Em pressed a hand to her heart and breathed heavily through her nose.

"Is there…?"

"Haven't seen anything," he assured her, tossing the handkerchief onto the night stand and pulling back the covers. He watched her eyes flick around the room, staying on the locked door for a good thirty seconds, before meeting his gaze. Steve gave her a sad smile before tugging her down towards him. Em complied and shifted so that her head rested on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"We're safe here?"

"Safe as we can be." Steve tilted her chin up to meet his eyes and gave her a tense smile. Shaking his head, he licked his thumb and swiped it under her nose. "You always get nosebleeds when you're scared?"

"It's a reaction to stress," she replied, rubbing the back of her hand across her face. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

"I'm sorry," he muttered against her lips. Em sighed and rested her forehead against his before pushing him away and propping herself up on her elbow.

"For what?"

"Doing this to you again. I keep painting a target on-"

"Stop. Just stop," she snapped, cutting him off by clapping her hand over his mouth. "I am too tired to sit here and tell you that everything's going to be sunshine and roses. Because it's probably not going to be. And right now, I can't muster up the energy to be your cheering squad, so stop thinking." She felt Steve let out a breath against her hand before he reached to pull it away.

"Emi-"

"No." Em put her other hand over his mouth again, her eyes wide. "You have to understand this, okay? I need you to be the strong one now. I need you to hold it together for me because I can't. And I love you, and I know you've gone through some shit, but I'm going through some shit right now, too. So please, please, please stop thinking about how this might be your fault and just shut up and hold me and tell me that everything's going to be okay because you're Captain America and you won't let anything bad happen. _Compris?"_

When she removed her hand, Steve closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. That was the first time she'd asked for him to be the Captain. And she was right: she'd been his anchor for so much and right now she needed him to be the there for her. And wallowing in self-pity wasn't going to help. "Steve?" her voice was guarded, hesitant, as if scared that she'd pushed him away. Fragile.

He opened his eyes and exhaled, forcing his lips into a smile. "Everything's going to be fine," Steve assured her, reaching up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She studied him for a moment, as if trying to see if he was being truthful. Apparently satisfied, she gave him a curt nod before leaning down to kiss him.

"I _do_ love you, you know."

"I know, Doll." The endearment made the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile. When she pressed her lips to his again, Steve could taste the salty dried tears on her lips.

"Thank you," Em said softly while kissing along her jaw.

"For what?" he groaned when she moved to his neck.

"Being my hero. Now help me stop thinking about how scared I am."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said before rolling her over and settling between her legs.

OOO

They spent a lot of time keeping their minds off of why they were staying in the hotel. The small stash of condoms Steve had bought was used in the first two days, and it was only discovered when they were in the heat of the moment. Em told him that she was on the Pill, but was hesitant to have sex without a condom. So instead, she'd shown him the wicked things she could do with her mouth.

On the third day, they'd grown tired of fast food and delivery pizza, so Steve ventured out by himself to the grocery store for a few things. Their hotel had a small kitchenette in it, and they stocked the fridge with cold cuts and cheese as well as a few microwavable items. Even just leaving Em for almost an hour had been nerve wracking and he'd had hurried back, only to find her with her laptop open and pen in hand, scribbling in her notebook. Both items had quickly been pushed to the floor and the new condom stash broken into.

Steve wasn't sleeping very well, and for once it wasn't his dreams. He was in a constant state of alertness, waiting for something to happen. So instead of sleeping he would watch Emily, listening to her soft sighs and moans as she slept, and holding her when she reached out for him. A few times she'd said something in French before rolling towards him and curling around him. Steve would wrap his arm around her and stroke her upper arm until his eyes drifted shut for a short nap.

Emily was half lying across him, her hand splayed on his chest and forehead on his neck when, on the forth morning, when someone hammered on the door. She jerked awake as Steve sat up, his eyes fixed on the door. "Get into the bathroom," he ordered while throwing back the covers and reaching for his pants. Em grabbed Steve's discarded shirt and threw it on while sprinted for the bathroom, pausing only a moment to look at him. He nodded, and she bit her lip before shutting the door and turning the lock.

Shivering, she sank down onto the edge of the tub, the ceramic cold against her bare thighs, and crossed her arms over her chest. Was this it? Had her stalker found them? Her eyes darted around the room for some sort of weapon, but she could only find the BIC razor, fat lot of good that would do.

"Damn it, you scared us," she heard Steve say, his tone exasperated and relieved at the same time.

"Where is she?"

Emily shot to her feet and, after struggling with the door before unlocking it, flung it open to see a very rumpled looking Agent Carter Falsworth. When he turned to look at her, his shoulders relaxed and he let out a shaky breath. "Carter," Em breathed before biting her lower lip. The agent shook his head and covered the ground between them in three steps before wrapping his arms around her and lifting her from the ground in a bone-crushing hug. It made her suddenly very aware that she was naked under Steve's shirt.

"I leave for a few weeks and you get yourself into this mess," Carter sighed after setting her on her feet. "You're a magnet for trouble, Emily Rose."

"Coulson told you?" she asked.

"After I went to your flat and found it empty."

"How'd you find us?" Steve asked. Both Emily and Carter turned to look at him; she went pale.

"S.H.I.E.L.D." Steve's eyes flicked to Emily as a grim look settled on his face. Carter looked between the two and sighed. "Look, we have to know where our assets are. But I'm not here to bring you in. I'm here because I care about you," he squeezed Emily's hand, "and to promise you that I'm going to look into this."

"You never saw anyone when you were looking after her?" Steve asked.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. But I wasn't with her all of the time," he scowled. "Believe me, had I seen anything, we wouldn't be dealing with this now."

"It has to be someone at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Emily said. "No one else has access to the lower levels."

"I know. Which is why I'm also inviting you both to stay at my flat." Steve walked over and slid his arm around Emily's waist, pulling her towards him.

"You think that's better than here?"

"I found you," Carter shrugged. "Besides, I've got private security, plenty of room, and you can't beat the view. However, clothing is mandatory." He glanced at Emily, and how Steve's shirt skimmed her thighs. Carter chuckled when she blushed and slipped out of Steve's grasp to retrieve a pair of yoga pants that had been tossed over a duffle bag.

"It might be better if we go there," Steve said once Em had thrown on the pants. She glanced between the two men and bit her lip.

"If you think so."

OOO

Carter's 'flat' was actually a penthouse suite in Manhattan.

Steve had followed him into the city while Emily drove with Carter; they made sure to take a roundabout way in. And the agent hadn't been lying when he said that he had private security. When they'd driven into the building's parking garage, the attendant had made sure that Em and Steve had both given their fingerprint. A digital keycard had been issued to them for the elevator, and it was only with an additional code that they were able to get to the penthouse.

While Emily had admired the New York skyline, Carter had drawn Steve aside and shown him his weapons cache, "Just in case."

It really shouldn't have surprised Steve shouldn't have been surprised when, that night, Carter pulled three chilled bottles of wine from the refrigerator and announced that it was drinking time. Emily had rolled her eyes and laughed when she read the label, and sarcastically asked how he knew her favorite cheap wine. Carter had winked and popped the cork from one of the bottles and slid it across the counter to her. "Drink up, Buttercup." That earned him another eye roll.

Rather than using glasses, both Em and Carter took swigs straight from the bottle. Steve had poured himself a smaller glass and frowned at the carbonation; it definitely wasn't a wine he'd pick for himself. Music poured from Carter's stereo, something that sounded more progressive than his '40s and '50s preference, but not as modern as the stuff on the radio.

They'd ended up sitting on the floor next to each other, Emily between "her guys" as she kept calling them before leaning over to press kisses into their cheeks. Carter had asked how their trip to Maine went, and tactfully avoided any mention of the stalker.

Carter, for his part, had let it slip that he was missing someone in New Mexico. Which, of course, had led to Emily pestering him to reveal exactly who. When Emily heard this, she'd gotten to her knees and demanded to know exactly who it was. When it finally came out that it was Darcy, ("DARCY?! MY DARCY?! LSG DARCY?!") Steve had pulled her into his lap as she flailed her hands, afraid that she was going to overturn her bottle of wine.

"It's over, though," he'd said with a shrug and a swig. "Long distance and all that."

"Oh," Em sobered slightly. "Yeah, that does suck."

"Alas," Carter shook himself and gave her a roguish grin. "Your hold on my heart remains steady."

"If I were single," Em chuckled, her hand reaching down to squeeze Steve's even as the agent brushed his lips against the knuckles of her other.

"Some men have all the luck," Carter winked at Steve.

"Don't I know it," Steve smirked, pressing his lips to Em's shoulder. It wasn't long after that, that Emily leapt to her feet and pulled Steve up to dance with her. He stood still as she danced around him, bumping her hip with his and attempting to make him move before rolling her eyes.

"Spoil sport! Carter, come on."

"Of course, my pearl. I live to serve." And they were off, dancing wildly to the upbeat music, with little regard for the furniture. It was only when Steve had to step between Emily and the coffee table to keep her from cracking her shin on it that they toned down the exuberance.

Exhausted and yawning, Emily collapsed onto the couch and flung out her arms. "God, that was fun," she laughed. And Steve was forced to admit that Carter had done a much better job of distracting his girl than he had.

"And now," the Brit smirked, "It's time for all good little girls to get to their beds."

"Who said I was good?"

"Still. Big day in the morning, and we're going out early."

"We are?" Steve asked.

"Yes. Now dearest, bed for you." Em flipped him the bird but the effect was lessened when she yawned again. Steve grinned and offered her a hand up, which she took. After kissing Carter's cheek and thanking him again for letting them stay over (which he waved off) and for the wine, Em let Steve lead her to bed.

He emerged from the room a few minutes later to get a glass of water for her. "Thanks again for all of this," Steve said. "I really appreciate it. I haven't heard her laugh since this whole thing started."

"I'm happy to help," Carter said, his voice earnest. "And I promise you, I'll get to the bottom of this."

"I know you will," Steve said, setting the water on the counter and leaning against it. "Because you love her."

Carter sputtered, choking on the wine he'd just attempted to drink. "I don't, regardless of-"

"You do," Steve smiled slightly and handed Carter a towel; he wiped it over his mouth before tossing it onto the stovetop. "You'd have to be blind not to see it."

"Steve-"

"It's fine. I know you'd never act on it." They stood in silence for a long moment, meeting each other's gaze before Carter sighed and hung his head.

"I wouldn't. I see how happy she is with you. And it's a hell of a difference from where she was before she got to S.H.I.E.L.D."

The corner of Steve's mouth twitched, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "She's a hell of a woman."

"That she is." The confession hung heavily between them until Steve pushed himself off the marble counter and clapped the technically younger man on the shoulder.

"This doesn't change anything between us, you know. I can't fault you for being in love with her, any more than you can fault me for being in love with your…your grandmother."

Carter jerked a nod, unable to drag his eyes from the floor.

"Night," Steve said softly before picking up the class of water and padding back towards the guest bedroom.

"Night," Carter echoed.

While Steve pulled Emily into his arms and settled in for the night, Agent Falsworth pulled out a box of files from his office closet and sat on the floor.

OOO

"No."

"Emily," Carter sighed while putting the car into park.

"We should have done this ages ago," Steve stated.

"Absolutely not."

"I will drag you from this car if I have to," the Brit threatened.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Emily Rose Harthorn," he growled, "you need to learn how to protect yourself. And obviously, hand-to-hand combat isn't your forte."

"I have to agree with him, Sweetheart." Emily glared at the two men from the backseat and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I. Do. Not. Like. Guns."

"You don't have to like them, you just have to know how to use one," Carter huffed before getting out of his BMW and opening the door for her. He held out a hand to help her out, but she pointedly ignored it.

"Doll," Steve sighed, turning in his seat. "Please? We just want to know that you're safe."

"I've got two body guards who know how to use them. I think I'm pretty safe."

"We're not going to be with you all the time," Steve reasoned. "Just give us a few hours, and I'll never ask you to do this again."

"At least watch us shoot a few rounds," Carter huffed. "You're a visual learner." Emily glared at him.

"Sometimes, I really hate how much you know about me."

"And there are times that you love it," he grinned, reaching into the car to unclip the seatbelt. "I'll buy you a coffee after."

"Fine," Emily scowled. "I'm only watching. I am _NOT_ firing a gun."

That ended after a few minutes, when Carter grabbed her hand and molded her fingers around his Glock. When she tried to let it go, he increased the pressure on his hand, making her hold it. Carter didn't even flinch when she elbowed him in the gut, but instead stepped behind her, his grip still firm, and (after a quick glance at Steve), wrapped his arms around her. He pushed aside the ear protection and leaned close to speak to her.

"You need to have as much of your hand on the grip as possible for stability."

"I don't want to do this," she said; he could feel her shaking in his arms.

"Before you shoot, you want to line up the top sight with the top of the rear sight. See, like this," he raised the gun and aligned it. "And focus on the front sight."

"Carter," she groaned.

"You need to know this," Steve said.

"This gun doesn't have a safety, so you need to makes sure that the gun is always safely pointed away from you before loading a magazine. Your finger should never be near the trigger until you're ready to shoot."

"Please?"

Again, he ignored her. "When you've got the sights lined up, you want to pull the trigger back smoothly. Don't jerk it, or your shot will be off. Ready?"

"No."

Smiling, he nudged her ear protection back into place before guiding her finger down and holding the tip against the trigger. Gently, he depressed, holding her steady as the kick back rocked through her arms. Carter quickly brought her arms back to the previous position and forced her to fire off the rest of the magazine.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Carter asked when he finally let go of her hands. Emily quickly stepped out of his embrace and as far from the gun as possible. Smirking and shaking his head, the agent switched out the magazine as she pressed her back against the wall. Steve moved to wrap his arm around her shoulders, but she pushed him off.

Steve had to use his strength to manhandle her back into position to fire off a few more magazines before they finally called it a day.

"I hate you both," Emily muttered as she sulked in the back seat like a petulant child.

"You might thank us one day," Carter replied while pulling the car away from the shooting range.

OOO

Emily, Steve, and Carter had "tense discussion" later that day when she'd asked them to swing by her apartment. Both men hadn't wanted to do so, in case her stalker was watching and followed them back to Carter's penthouse.

That had been the precursor to a fight. Emily was insistent that she and Steve attend the Stark Industries Gala that weekend, but they were against it. Both were concerned with safety, and thought that it was a bad idea to be out in the open.

"I am going stir crazy!" she yelled, exasperated with them both. "I can't stay inside all of the time!"

"It's safe-"

"My sanity is more important than my safety at this point," she insisted.

"Don't say that," Steve said harshly. "We're just being cautious."

"Look, I understand," she huffed, dropping onto the leather couch. "But what could be more safe than in the same room with Iron Man and Captain America?"

"Staying here," Carter stated. He didn't even bat an eye when she glared at him.

"I'm going," she declared. "You don't have to, but I already told Pepper I would, and I want to see my friend."

"Emi-"

"If I stay in here afraid of my own shadow, he's already won." Em pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I can't be afraid for the rest of my life, okay?"

She clenched her fist in frustration when she caught the look shared between them. Because, honestly, they were treating her like a child. And Emily Rose Harthorn was anything but.

OOO

"I'll have you know, my job does not entail running errands for you," Sharon stated when Carter opened the door.

"But it's one of your many talents," he teased his cousin while removing the garment bag from her arms. She rolled her eyes, shoved the smaller duffle bag into his arms, and pushed past him into the apartment, her eyes scanning the area.

"So this is where Dr. Harthorn is hiding?"

"Temporarily," he said, hanging the bag from the coat stand and setting the other at the foot. "Until we can figure out whose been following her."

"Other than our family," Sharon smirked, relaxing into one of overstuffed chairs. Her fingers wrapped around a silver frame and stroked the engravings. It was a family portrait, three generations of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents: Great-Aunt Peggy and Great-Uncle James, Uncle Brian, Carter, and herself.

"Other than our family," he echoed, flopping onto his couch.

"Where are your guests?" she asked, pulling her eyes from picture and glancing around the penthouse.

"Emily's taking a bath, and Steve's gone to get his tux." Her lips curled into a cold smile as she glanced at the guest room door.

"Yes, I'm sure yours wouldn't fit him," she nodded slightly. "And how is your arrangement going?"

"It's working," Carter said, his voice cool. He'd seen that look on her face before and knew that some snarky comment was rolling around in her head.

"Even given you're well hidden feelings towards the good Doctor?"

"Sharon," he warned.

"It's a valid question," she smirked. "We all know you've been mooning over the Doctor since you took over this assignment from me."

"And you never said why you gave it up," he narrowed his eyes. Sharon waved off his comment, her eyes turning to the magnificent skyline view.

"Following around the Harthorns wasn't quite my cup of tea. Speaking of which…" Taking the hint, Carter stood, set up his electronic kettle and pulled down his assortment of teas. He may be living in America, but he still enjoyed a good cup of tea. But rather than making one for his cousin, he prepared one for himself and sat back on the couch. She raised an eyebrow before rolling her eyes and getting to her feet.

"Have you spoken to Grandfather recently?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Not since last week. Why? Has something changed?" her voice was tense.

"Nothing," he quickly assured her. "Just wondering. How did the Tokyo case go?"

"Dull. Intel was solid, so the take down was quick," Sharon sighed in remorse while reclaiming her seat.

"More's the pity."

"Have you decided when you'll be going back home?"

"Soon. I need to speak to the lawyers and see to some things around the House. Possibly see about the London flat." Sharon nodded. They'd used the flat a number of times as an emergency safe house, but no one had inhabited the penthouse full time since Carter's mother had passed.

"And your resignation papers?"

"Are you so eager to be the only Falsworth representative in S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Carter's voice was light but his smiled was more of a grimace.

"Only if it's because of your resignation. I don't feel like attending another funeral." Sharon gave him a sad smile, her eyes going back to the picture of Uncle Brian. He'd died a hero, but that had been little comfort to Great-Aunt Peggy, who had outlived both of her children.

"I'll do my best," he nodded, "as long as you do the same."

"Agreed, Cousin."

OOO

"Wow," Emily breathed as she stepped off of the elevator into the private penthouse at the top of Stark Tower.

"Yeah," Steve echoed, his eyes darting around.

"Oh thank god you're here," Pepper Potts sighed, appearing from one of the hallways. She swept towards them in a black sleeveless gown that hugged her curves, and opened her arms to hug Emily. "I need your help with something."

"What can I do?" Emily asked, leaning forward to embrace the exasperated woman. She'd ended up wearing the same blue mermaid dress she'd worn to the gala at the Museum of Modern Art when she'd first started at S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I need someone whose not employed by Stark Industries to vent to," Pepper huffed, hugging Steve as well. She seemed to shake herself for a moment and put her hand to her forehead, "Sorry, where are my manners? Welcome to Stark Tower. You both look great."

"Thanks," Em chuckled.

"You have a lovely home," Steve smiled at her.

"Thank you. Well, Steve, if you would like to get comfortable out here, I'll have Emily back to you in a few minutes. I just need to have my hair finished and then we can all head down together." She linked arms with Em and pulled her back towards one of the bedrooms, "And don't worry about Tony, I've already sent him down to greet the early comers. Help yourself to the bar!"

"Now, what's wrong?" Emily asked, perching herself on the corner of the bed. Pepper resumed her spot in front of the vanity and waved at the hairstylist who resumed her work.

"What isn't?" Pepper sighed. "Tonight, for instance. Do you know how many times I've had to threaten Tony to even get him to be here? I mean, for God's sake, the man acts like a child sometimes. He even tried to use the Expo as a reason for him not to be here. '_I seem to attract the crazies, Pep'_."

Emily chuckled and shook her head, "Can't really deny that." It felt good to be talking to another woman about something other than the problems currently going on in her life.

"Oh, and don't even get me started on the last minute changes he's done. Two days ago, _two days ago!_ I had to send the jet to Venice because he just had to have a masquerade ball. Which, fine, it's his money and jet, but then he tries to use it as an excuse to wear the Iron Man helmet tonight."

"You're kidding."

"No. He even wanted me to call you and have Steve wear his."

"Yeah, because that would happen."

"That man," Pepper hissed. "And not to mention the Congressional hoops I've been jumping through to get this Tower finished. The arc reactor is going to take over in a few days as our main power source," she explained.

"I saw something about that in the paper."

"And Congress is thrilled about this, especially with how many friends Tony's made in the Senate Arm's Committee. We're fighting the oil lobbyists, and even some of the environmental groups who don't think that reactor technology is the way of the future."

Emily smiled and listened to the other woman vent. It was obvious that she didn't often have this opportunity. And really, everyone deserved that. There's only so much a person can bottle up.

"But anyways," Pepper finally let out a breath. "How are things with you and Steve?"

"Fine," Em lied. She didn't want to lose the sense of normalcy she'd so craved. Tonight had been such a good idea.

"That's good. I tried to get Jane and Darcy out here, but apparently their about to run another test or something."

"Ah. Yeah, I think Darcy e-mailed me something about that. She wanted to know if we were headed back out that way anytime soon. Nothing on our calendar so far."

"Same here." The CEO turned and examined her perfectly coifed hair in the mirror before nodding her approval. "Looks great. Thank you, Lindsey."

"Not a problem, Ms. Potts. Would your friend…?" the hairstylist nodded at Emily, who reached up to finger her hair; it had been easiest to just leave it down, rather than trying to do anything to it.

"Em?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Pepper scrutinized her for a moment before shaking her head and vacating the chair.

"Come on, you look like you could use some pampering. Besides, I've got Lindsey booked for another hour." After a bit more protesting, Emily found herself seated in front of the vanity while Pepper disappeared to check on Steve.

When she returned a few minutes later, Pepper was smiling and handed Lindsey something behind the chair so that Em couldn't see it. After the final dousing of hairspray, Emily smiled at her reflection. Her hair had been curled into gentle waves and pulled back from her face, with just a few strands left out. But just as she was about to get out of the chair, Lindsey stepped around her and rummaged in the makeup box.

"Just one more thing," the woman said, motioning for Em to close her eyes. She could feel her applying more eye shadow and painting eyeliner on her upper lids, and then applying lipstick. With a shift, Em felt the woman disappear, and jumped when something touch her face.

When Pepper said, Emily opened her eyes and looked at herself. A royal blue glittery papier-mâché mask with black lace around the edges covered most of her face. The cat eyes cut out drew all of the attention, making her winged eyeliner really pop. And of course, her lips were painted a dark red color that just begged to be kissed. "Oh," Emily said.

"You look great," Pepper smiled, tapping her own black mask on her leg. Unlike Em's, it was on a stick and made of wire, with gold complementing the black.

"Thank you," the historian pulled her eyes away from her reflection and looked from the stylist to her friend.

"You're welcome," Lindsey smiled.

After a final check in the full length mirror, Pepper linked arms with Em again and pulled her out into the living room. Steve was standing in front of the bank of windows, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. When he heard them approaching, though, he turned, a slow grin spreading across his lips. "Wow," he said, "you look…"

Smiling, Em let go of Pepper (who asked JARVIS for a list of those who had already arrived; Em had jumped slightly at the disembodied voice) and walked over to him, gently taking the mask he'd been tapping against his leg from his hand. It was more masculine, but the same blue as hers on the left eye, while musical notes decorated the right eye, and black triangles spanned across the bridge of the nose and forehead. Steve grinned and leaned down to press his lips to hers. "Beautiful," he finished his sentence.

"Thank you, Soldier," Em replied, reaching up to wipe her lipstick from his mouth.

"You're welcome, Ma'am." Laughing, she tapped his shoulder with the mask before motioning for him to turn around. Once the mask was secured on his face, Steve turned back around to face her, an embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. "I feel kind of foolish wearing this."

"So says the man who wears the Stars and Stripes while fighting evil do-ers," she smirked. Chuckling, he gently pinched her hip and muttered, 'Good point.'

"I'm going to head down now before Tony does something I can't fix," Pepper said once the AI had given her the full list.

"That happen often?" Steve asked, offering Emily his arm and leading them both to Pepper. The CEO smiled and took his other arm and shook her head.

"I'm pretty good at fixing things."

OOO

Grinning, Em spun back towards Steve and put her hand on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer as they spun around the floor, with eyes only for each other. And he only stepped on her toes a few times. When the song ended, Steve wrapped his arm around her waist and led her from the floor. "Where'd you learn to dance?" she asked.

"You and Carter," he shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm just glad I didn't step on your toes too much."

"It's progress from 'I don't dance'," she chuckled, her leaning against him, her eyes lazily drifting over the crowd. Nearly two hundred people were there from all soci-economic groups. The super-wealthy mingled freely with the firefighters and police officers and their spouses. A few reporters circulated, each trying to get the best quote and find a juicy story for the society pages.

Chuckling, Steve moved towards their table, but Em pulled them towards the hallway. He raised an eyebrow but followed as she found an empty room and pulled him into it. The large bank of windows made it so that she didn't have to turn on a light to see anything. "Sorry, just wanted a minute alone," she said, slipping out of his hold and going to look out the windows. "We haven't had any alone time since-"

"Yeah," Steve said, walking over and slipping his arms around her waist. Emily relaxed into him and closed her eyes.

"I'm glad we came tonight."

"Mmhmm," he hummed, resting his cheek against her head. Even if it had meant putting up with Stark's sarcastic comments about how Steve was being a dirty old man dating a much younger woman. But when Pepper had quirked an eyebrow, Tony had hastily beat a retreat and continued his circulation of the room.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Putting up with me. I know I've been kind of a pain in the ass-"

"Emily," Steve turned her in his arms and tilted her chin up. "Don't apologize for being scared. I'm scared too."

"I know," Em sighed, running her hand up his chest to circle it around the back of his neck. She pulled him down so that her forehead rested against hers, their masks bumping awkwardly. "I just feel useless, like I'm the girl in the movies who runs away screaming and hides behind the guy with the guns."

"Is that the worst thing?" he asked, stroking her jaw.

"I don't like being that girl." Steve shook his head and leaned down to kiss her, his arms dropping to wrap around her waist; he lifted her off the ground until he could easily look her in the eyes.

"You are perfectly entitled to be that girl right now," he said solemnly. "But I understand what you mean. Just remember: to me, you're always going to be the girl who yells at Fury and punched Blonsky. You're not a shrinking violet."

"How did you get to be such a charmer?"

"I've got this great girl that makes it really easy." Em laughed and kissed him again.

"When this is all over, I say we get out of the city for a while," she said against his lips. "Paris?"

"Mmhmm," he mouthed against her neck after setting her back on her feet. His fingers tugged at the zipper of her dress as she untucked his shirt.

"Door," she panted as the dress slid from her chest. Steve groaned and kissed her hard before letting go of her and sprinting for the door, stripping off his jacket, tie, and shirt in the process. She'd had just enough time to kick off the dress when he was back, standing in front of her. Em was only wearing her mask, heels, and underwear, and the sight made him moan before pulling him against him roughly.

"Love you," he muttered against her chest as she fumbled with his zipper.

"_Je t'aime_."

OOO

Looking a bit more disheveled, Em and Steve rejoined the party and quickly snagged flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. Before Steve could take a sip, though, Em laughed and reached up to wipe her lipstick from his mouth again. "Maybe red was a bad color to wear," she smiled as he gently bit her finger.

"I like it," he shrugged. Em was about to reply when something caught her eye over his shoulder. She quickly side stepped him and looked around the crowd but didn't see anything. "Emily?" Steve asked, turning quickly to look around with her. "What is it?"

"I thought I just," her voice was dazed, but she shook herself. "Sorry. My eyes are playing tricks on me."

"What do you think you saw?" he asked, an undercurrent of Captain America in his tone.

"It's nothing, Steve, don't worry." He raised his eyebrows.

"Given what's going on right now, I think I'm right to worry." Em shook her head.

"Trust me. I can't have seen what I think I saw." His lips pressed into a thin line, but he jerked a nod. Still, he kept his arm securely around her waist and seemed to be on high alert after that. It was only when she dragged him back onto the dance floor that he smiled again, and only out of embarrassment for stepping on her foot again.

When Steve excused himself to use the restroom, Em people watched. The masks everyone was wearing seemed to give them a bit more freedom, she noted. A few people were boldly flirting in the corners of the room, while others awkwardly shifted the masks. Very few had abandon them all together. She'd just spied Pepper across the room and waved when she felt someone brush her hand.

Startled, she turned and looked at the retreating figure, and gasped when he turned back to look at her. A smile tugged at his scared lips before he was gone.

Em felt her breathing speed up and pressed the hand to her chest. There was absolutely no way. Feeling herself losing control, she fought her way out into the hallway, muttering hurried apologies to those she crashed into. She'd just made it outside when she ran headlong into someone. Before they could tumble to the floor, he steadied her.

"Where's the fire?" Tony Stark asked. "Cause we've got a room full of firefighters, and I'd prefer not to have my new Tower burn down."

"Sorry," Em muttered, trying to shake off his grip.

"Dr. Harthorn?" his voice lost the sarcastic edge. "What's wrong?"

"I just…I need some air," her hands anxiously twisted the charm on her necklace. His met her wide eyed gaze before nodding slightly.

"Here," he said, leading her over to the elevator bank. When the car arrived, he ushered her inside. "JARVIS, override protocols and let Dr. Harthorn up to the roof."

"Yes, Sir," the disembodied voice said. When Tony saw her staring warily around, he chuckled.

"Just my AI butler. I'll send Rogers up as soon as I see him. Just promise me you're not going to jump or something."

"Not going to jump," Em assured him. He jerked a nod and stepped back to let the doors close. Before they could, her arm shot out to catch his. "Thanks Tony."

"Don't mention it," he shrugged.

The ride was over sooner than she'd expected. As soon as the doors opened, Em stumbled out and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. While it had been a warm night, being so high up was chilly. Shivering, she forced herself to take a deep breath, and then another as she made her way towards the benches that lined the fire pit.

Emily sank down onto one and put her face in her hands, trying to stop from shaking. She was losing her mind, seeing things. Too much stress, too many secrets had finally fractured her brain. Because she couldn't have seen those green eyes. It wasn't possible.

Behind her, there was a swish of air as the elevator opened, and the sound of Steve's shoes on the ground. Taking a steadying breath, she lowered her hands from her face and bit her lip, trying to compose herself before he saw her. Her head was still bowed when he stepped in front of her.

When the glass appeared before her, Em curled her fingers around it, brushing Steve's hand. "Thanks," she whispered.

"You're welcome."

The faint tinkling of glass breaking met her ears before Emily even realized the champagne flute had slipped through her fingers.

* * *

**Author's note: **So much I want to put in here, but quickly.

1. Thanks for the patience. Vacation was fun, but work was hectic. Seriously, averted an international incident and got drunk with an Ambassador and Baroness in Parliament (two somewhat related things, but I wasn't the potential cause of the incident)

2. Yes, I told some of you that Carter isn't in love with Em, but it took reading the story over again to see it. Sometimes your characters do things that the writer doesn't intend.

3. Shameless self promotion, but I posted a PepperxTony one shot.

4. Don't kill me? I'm working on the next chapter now.

THANK YOU FOR READING AND I LOVE YOU ALL!


	47. Chapter Forty Six

Chapter Forty Six

_Wait, they don't love you like I love you_

_Wait, they don't love you like I love you_

_Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs_

* * *

The faint tinkling of glass breaking met her ears before Emily even realized the champagne flute had slipped through her fingers. Her head snapped up, and she ignored the stab of pain from the quick motion, leaping to her feet and pulling the damn mask off. It dropped to the ground as a strangled sound burst from her, and then she was kissing lips that had once been so familiar. Arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer in as tears streamed down her face.

"Hey babe," Garrett grinned when they broke apart. She cradled his face between her hands, unsure if she could trust her eyes. He leaned down to kiss her again, but recoiled when she slapped him hard. "Ow, what was that for?"

Emily clapped her stinging hand over her mouth, the other wrapping protectively around her waist, and backed away, shaking her head violently. She felt faint. "Y-you."

"Watch out, Emmie," he said quickly, reaching out to grab her arm as she neared the fire pit edge. Em slapped away his hand and spun on the spot, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"I've lost it. You're not real. I'm hallucinating." She shivered when Garrett slid his hands onto her shoulders and started to massage away the tension there, like he had whenever she was stressed.

"You're not crazy. I'm right here."

"Cracked. Certifiably nuts."

"Emily, baby, look at me," he pleaded before pressing his lips to the back of her neck. When that didn't get her attention, he pinched her hip hard.

"Ouch! Asshole!" Emily spun in his arms and slapped his chest.

"Are you satisfied that I'm not a delusion yet?" he chuckled.

"You have to be," Emily said, tears streaming down her face as one shaky hand reached up to touch the side of his face. Fingers traced small scars that hadn't been on _her_ Garrett's face. When she touched the long white scar stretching from his lip to his cheekbone, he shook his head and held her hand against his face.

"God, honey, you're a sight for sore eyes," he whispered before turning to kiss her palm. "You don't know how long I've been thinking about this moment, Rosie."

Her knees almost buckled at the nickname. _No one_ called her Rosie. No one but Garrett. "You're real?" Emily asked, her voice cracking before pressing her lips together tightly to keep from sobbing.

"I'm real," he nodded before leaning down to kiss her. Garrett pulled her close, his hands roaming her sides as if he couldn't get enough of feeling her again. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead when they broke apart. Em's clenched his shirt, making sure he didn't get too far. "I'm so sorry."

Tears were falling quickly down her face, dampening his shirt. "How?" she asked.

"It's a long story, babe," he sighed, a sad smile tugging at his ruined lips. "And right now, I just want to-"

"HEY!"

Distracted, both Em and Garrett had failed to hear the elevator arrive. "Steve," she said, her heart stopping. She looked from Steve to Garrett, and back again as her boyfriend strode towards her fiancé, fists clenched.

"Get your hands OFF of my girl," Steve ordered.

"Steve, wait-"

"Hey, buddy-" In a quick motion, Steve had yanked Em from Garrett's arms and drawn back his fist. It flew before Em could step between them again.

"Don't!"

"OOF!" Garrett groaned as he was thrown backwards, landing hard on the ground.

"GARRETT!" Em screeched, fighting against Steve's tight grip. Shocked, he loosened his hold just long enough for Emily to get free. She ran over to where Garrett had landed and fell to her knees. "Garre, are you okay?"

He groaned and reached up to feel his eye. "You gonna kiss it better for me?" Huffing, she pushed his hand away and tilted his chin so she could look at his eye better.

"Garrett?" Steve said quietly.

"Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers," he grimaced. "Em, stop fussing, it's fine."

"Shut up," Em snapped, but let him push her hands away.

"Emily?" Her eyes shot to Steve. His eyes were wide with confusion, and he looked from her to Garrett, and back again. "What…?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. Biting her lip, Em looked down at the ground and hastily wiped at her cheeks, sniffling loudly.

"Babe, don't cry," Garrett said softly before getting to his feet.

"Sweetheart?" Steve took a step forward.

And then there were two hands in front of her, both men reaching to help her to her feet. She looked up, seeing them standing side by side, Garrett dark and handsome, and Steve's All-American good looks.

She loved both men. And they both knew it. Garrett and Steve were looking at her expectantly. It really shouldn't have meant much, but Em felt like this was a deciding moment. Taking one hand instead of the other would signal her choice.

The damnable dress constricted her movement, but Em disregarded both hands and rocked back on her heels and stood up. When she stumbled, Steve and Garrett reached to steady her. "I'm fine," she said quickly, shaking off both their hands. "I just…" Em wrapped her arms around her waist, curling inwards. "I need some space. I need to think."

"Emily," Steve said, edging towards her. When he tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders, she shook her head again and moved away from him. The move made her closer to Garrett, who mimicked Steve's action.

"Please don't. Both of you. I can't…" she looked up before pressing her eyes together tightly and covering them with her hand.

"Here," Steve dug into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. Em opened her eyes and saw it, her hand sliding down her face to wipe under her nose. Her index finger was bloody, and the sight made her stomach clench.

"And there we go," Garrett stepped forward quickly when Em turned and bent at the waist, wrenching. Nothing came up, though, and she spit, shaking off Garrett's hands again. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to accept people's help," he smirked. It was an old fight of theirs.

"I'm…I…I've got to go," Em said quickly, spinning around and striding towards the elevator. She plucked the handkerchief from Steve's hand as she walked past him.

"I'll take you-" Steve started to say, turning to place a hand on her lower back.

"No!" Em. "I mean…I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I…tomorrow." Without another word, she walked to the elevator and pressed the call button. Thankfully, it was waiting for her. When she stepped inside, she turned and kept her eyes on the ground, pressing Steve's handkerchief to her nose.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Garrett said when the doors had closed. He turned and held out his hand. "Garrett O'Connell."

"Steve Rogers," Steve replied, still sounding somewhat dazed. But his grip was just a shade too tight before he dropped Garrett's hand. "Now are you going to say how in the hell you're standing here when Emily buried you two years ago?"

"I really think that something I should talk to her about first." Steve had to fight back the urge to punch him again. "I owe her that, at least."

"You owe her a hell of a lot more," Steve growled before turning on his heel and making for the stairs. He didn't have the patience to wait for the elevator.

OOO

She'd wanted to take her car, but Steve had her keys. There wasn't enough cash for a taxi, but thankfully she had her credit cards. It had taken forever for the card to be processed, but at least she got home in one piece.

Once safely in her apartment, Em kicked off her heels and slammed the door behind her. The locks were quickly put in place, and, for added measure, she shoved a chair under the handle, just in case Carter decided to pick the locks. For the second time, she struggled to get the damn dress off, this time she put it directly into the trashcan; wearing that one had never lead to anything good. Still only in her bra and panties, she poured herself a strong rum and Coke before going to her room.

Garrett.

Her Garrett, her fiancé, back from the dead. But he'd never been dead to begin with. He'd left her for God knows why, and was now back, just when she'd finally opened herself up to love someone else.

And Steve, Em groaned. He deserve so much better than this. He was just worried about her, and now Garrett? "Ugh!" Em slammed her glass down on the dresser, the mostly alcoholic drink splashing on her hand. She grabbed a dirty towel and angrily wiped at the mess before throwing it back into the bathroom. Still growling with frustration, Em yanked open the dresser and rummaged through for something to wear.

Once her yoga pants were on, she stripped off her bra and searched for a shirt. When her hand landed on Garrett's old Army sweater, though, she paused. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled it from the drawer and tossed it to the floor before grabbing a black tank top. Another long drink of her rum and coke, and Em settled on a plan.

From the kitchen, she retrieved a trash bag and set about going through her things for anything of Garrett's.

It was a depressingly large pile.

Old shirts and sweatpants were pulled from the drawers. Books were taken down from the bookshelf. Most of her movie collection was tossed unceremoniously into a box.

Tears fell again when she opened her strong box and pulled out a velvet box and opened it. Her engagement ring glittered, and she lifted it out, holding it between her thumb and index finger. Biting her lip, she slid it onto her ring finger and held her hand up. It felt odd, the white gold sitting there again. Just as odd as it had been the first time she'd put it on.

A sob burst from her lips as Em covered her eyes. She should be happy that Garrett was back, and she _was_. But why hadn't he shown himself before now? And why didn't his parents know? They'd been through so much, and that all could have ended if they'd known he hadn't died Afghanistan.

And, selfishly, what did this mean for her? Was she still Garrett's fiancée? Did she owe that to him? Because she couldn't be Garrett's fiancée and Steve's girlfriend at the same time.

She still loved him. And she'd told Steve as much. It wasn't as if they'd had a clean break, each getting to say their piece before walking away. Garrett had been ripped away from her just as they'd started planning their life together. And now that he was back, would they go about having that life?

But what about Steve? Emily loved him too, as much as she loved Garrett. And even though she was reluctant to talk about the future, she could _see_ it. It was so easy to picture Steve playing with their kids, teaching them to play baseball and attending dance recitals. She could see herself spending years in his arms, smiling over dinners, fighting over money and stupid, inconsequential things.

Shaking, Em took off the ring and put it back into its box before dropping back into the safe next to the locket. After kicking the strong box back under the bed, she chugged the rest of her drink, slamming the glass into the carpet. She swayed slightly when she stood, and steadied herself on the wall.

Even choosing where to sleep in her apartment felt like making a choice. Did she sleep in the bed she shared with Steve? Or the old futon from the house she'd shared with Garrett?

In the end, Emily fell asleep curled her papasan chair that both men hated, wrapped tightly in an old blanket.

OOO

Emily groaned, trying to ignore the hammering at her door. It was too early for people to be coming by. Especially after the dream she'd had.

But they weren't leaving. If anything, the knocking was getting more insistent. Huffing, she stood up and wrapped the blanket around herself as she walked to the door. A quick glance at the microwave showed that it was only six in the morning. And she paused upon seeing the door under the door handle. "Yeah?" she asked, blearily looking through the crack after pushing the chair aside.

"Took you long enough," Garrett smirked. "Let me in, I brought breakfast." Em's jaw dropped, and she quickly slammed the door shut, falling back against the wall. No, this was still a dream, she said rubbing her eyes. "Rosie, come on!"

"Last night wasn't a dream?" Emily asked once the door was open. Garrett laughed and brushed past her into the apartment. After setting the grocery bags down on the counter, he turned back to her and grinned.

"God, babe, I forgot how good you looked in the morning." Self-consciously, Em dragged a hand through her hair and tried to flatten it before he stepped closer and caught it. Without warning, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. While it wasn't as routine as they had been years before hand, Em reactions were similar. It was only when her fingertips brushed the scar on his cheek that she shook herself and pushed him away.

"How are you standing here?" she demanded, hand still resting on his chest.

"Getting existential in the morning? And before your coffee?" Garrett teased. When she glared at him, his grin dropped slightly. "How about I tell you while making breakfast? I brought stuff for chocolate chip banana pancakes…"

Em's mouth started watering at the thought, even as her stomach clenched. She hadn't had those since he'd die- well, not exactly died, but apparently disappeared. Chocolate chip banana pancakes had been Garrett's specialty, and they'd feasted on them when he returned from a deployment, or when she'd been particular stressed out about school. After he was gone, Em hadn't been able to bring herself to eat them again.

"Fine," she said, her voice stronger than how she felt, "but only if you explain how…what happened."

"Deal, Rosie."

"Stop calling me that," Em snapped before retreating to her bedroom, blanket dragging behind her like a cape. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, she dropped the blanket and clapped her hands over her eyes. Garrett was standing in her kitchen. Alive, well, and acting like nothing had happened. For Christ's sake, he was making their post-deployment food, like he'd been gone on a mission for the last two years!

Fueled by her righteous anger, Em scrubbed her teeth and washed her face before putting on her glasses and storming out of her room. "Answers, now, O'Connell."

"Yes, Ma'am," Garrett smirked before sliding over a mug of coffee, exactly the way she liked it. "But first-"

"No 'but first's', I want answers, damn it!" She wasn't sure if it was her choice of words, tone, or the tears shining in her eyes that made him finally stop smiling. But he was definitely not smiling when she continued. "I want to know why I buried you two years ago when you're standing right here. I want to know how you thought it was okay to leave me like that, without a word that you were actually alive, how you could do that to your parents, Garr. I wanna know what you were doing while I was hospitalized for depression because _you died_!"

"Emily," Garrett said quickly, walking out of the kitchen and reaching for her. He blinked rapidly as his eyes burned with tears. She slapped his hands away, but he crowded her against the wall and cradled her face in his hands. "Oh god, Em, I didn't know. You can't think that it was easy for me. I missed you like crazy every day, and I wanted to let you _and_ my parents know I was okay, but I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to let me waltz back into your life after they'd just made sure everyone I loved thought I was dead."

Had she not been leaning against the wall, Emily's knees probably would have given out at that moment. _S.H.I.E.L.D. _

Of course. Of course it had been S.H.I.E.L.D. that had done this, because who else could have. "It was you," she said softly, her eyes scanning his face. "It's been you leaving me all of those things."

"Yeah," Garrett nearly laughed. "Who else would know your hang over cure? And you've always wanted to see _Wicked_." Em shoved him away from her, and he stumbled backwards. Before he could regain his footing, Em slapped him. "Ow," he said in a sarcastic tone. "Is that a new habit of yours?"

"Do you have _any_ _idea _how scared I've been?" she snarled, angrily blinking away her tears. "I thought someone was following me!" When he raised an eyebrow, she threw her hands up in frustration before turning away from him and putting a hand on her forehead.

"I'm sorry," Garrett sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just thought you'd figure it out after a while. And especially after New Mexico-"

OOO

_Something heavy hit her from the right side, and Em hit the ground, just as Blonsky's hand grazed over her again. There was an empty 'THUD' as her head hit the pavement, and black spots danced across her vision. She could feel hot breath on her face as her eyes started to drift shut. "I've got you, Emmie." Her breath hitched, trying to fight against the darkness, the sound feeling of cotton filling her ears. Through fluttering eyes, she saw black hair, and a flash of light glinting off of metal over the man's shoulder. As he turned to look at her, Emily lost consciousness. _

OOO

"New Mexico?" she turned in his arms. "That really was you?"

"Yeah," he smiled softly, reaching up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "God, I thought after that it was going to be easy. But you didn't come looking for me, so I went back to sending you hints. The welcome basket was pretty good, if I say so myself. But still, you didn't ask about me. So I sent you the daisy. No one knows about that except for us."

"Why would I ever think it was you?" Em asked, resting her head on his shoulder. "I buried you."

"I know. I'm sorry," Garrett sighed, holding her tightly and burying his hand in her hair. "This isn't what I wanted for us." They stood quietly for a long time, just taking comfort in being together again.

"You still haven't told me how," she said after a while.

"I've always loved your persistence," he chuckled, kissing her forehead. "How about I tell you while making breakfast?"

"Don't burn them," she smiled softly.

"Never do," he smirked before letting her go and walking back to kitchen.

"Except when you're drunk and nearly burn down the apartment."

"One time! One time, and you're never going to let me live that down, are you?" Garrett laughed while rummaging through her cabinets and pulling down a bowl, pan, and measuring cup. From his bags, he withdrew the necessary ingredients and started measuring them out. Without a word, he handed over the bag of chocolate chips for her to open, and she took a handful to eat.

"Talk." When he didn't, she cleared his throat, but he held up a finger to silence her.

Garrett didn't say anything until he started to stir the mixture. "This…God, this is harder than I thought." His green eyes shot up to meet hers as she polished her glasses. Upon seeing her quirked eyebrow, he smirked. "Ok. So before I left for Afghanistan, do you remember us talking about after? What we were going to do once you finished your PhD?"

They had been talking about what they were going to do. Life as a military spouse wasn't going to do Em's career any favors, especially if she wanted a tenure-tracked job.

"I want to know-"

"I'm starting at the beginning, Em. Just bear with me."

"Fine. Yes, I remember."

"Ok. So," he spooned the first pancake into the griddle and dropped a few banana slices into it before rummaging in the drawers for a spatula. "What I didn't tell you was that I was probably going to drop my papers when I got back because I'd been talking to a company about a job."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you were stressed enough already, babe. It was right around your last test thing, so I didn't want to bother you with it." He flipped the pancake and shrugged. "I signed a contract, saying that as soon as I was out of the Army, I'd report to S.H.I.E.L.D. training." Em's grip on the counter tightened.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"When I got back." The first pancake was slid onto the plate and a second poured into the pan. "Well, we both know what happened during my tour." Em's eyes shot to his hand holding the spatula. It was shaking badly as he pressed his eyes shut.

"Garrett?" He didn't respond. "_Mon amour_?" She slid off the bar stool and walked quickly around the island. He tensed when she slid her arm around his waist. "_C'est moi. Seulement moi_, _mon cher._" Tentatively, Em reached up to stroke his unscarred cheek. "Only me, my love." Her free hand took away the spatula and put his hand over her heart. "Only Emily."

"Em," he said softly. "My Rosie." When Garrett opened his eyes, she could see the anger and pain there. Without warning, his lips crashed onto hers, parting them as his hands squeezed her breast and ass.

Her brain turned off as he backed her into the counter and lifted her onto it, stepping between her legs. In a quick movement, he pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. Em moaned as he mouthed at her neck before kissing down her chest and pressing the flat of his tongue to her nipple.

"Garrett," she panted, head falling back as he continued his downward movement. He hooked his fingers in her yoga pants and tried to pull them down as well until she grabbed his hands. "Garrett, stove!" He nodded, kissing Em's inner thigh. She shoved him back and slid off the counter, reaching for the smoking pan. Quickly, she tossed it in the sink and turned on the cold tap.

"Shit," Garr snapped. "Fucking hell, I forgot about the damn pancake."

"Well, that's twice you've burned them now," she smirked, crossing her arms over her reddened bare chest. Em held out a hand to stop him when he took a step closer. "We can't. Besides," she stooped to pick up her shirt, "you need to finish telling me what happened."

"You sure you don't want to hold off on the talk and maybe get to the fun part of the reunion?" Em's mouth dropped open and she punched his arm. He grinned appreciatively as her breasts bounced with the movement. Glaring, she pulled the shirt over her head and returned to her seat, clenching her thighs under the counter.

"I want to know what the hell happened. And don't ruin any more of my pans." Garrett's smile fell as he leaned against the sink.

"I don't really know what happened after that. I just remember waking up in the hospital, and them telling me that I was dead for all official purposes."

"What made them go through the trouble? I mean, I love you Garr, but what makes you so special?"

"Thanks, babe. Nice to know what you think of me," he smirked, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. She rolled her eyes. "I don't know. But god, I was so happy when they heard that they found Captain Rogers."

"Why?"

"Why?" Garrett laughed. "Because it was the best chance to see you. I heard they were getting a team together to help him, and I knew you were perfect, so I told Thompson-"

"Thompson!"

"-But he said that they already knew about you. And that you were already being offered the job. Something about having a family history. Did you know about that?"

"No, not until I started," Em waved off his question. "Why didn't you just come see me when I started at S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Believe me, I wanted to. But Agent Carter-"

"What?" Em hissed.

"Sharon Carter. She's the one that recruited me." Red flashed before her eyes. Agent Carter. Agent Sharon Carter.

"Em," there was a hammering at the door. "Let me in!" She jumped in her seat, eyes flashing to Garrett before she stood up. "Why does it smell like smoke?" Carter demanded. "And why in the hell…"

"My fault," Garrett said, walking out of the kitchen. He wrapped an arm around Em's waist and stretched out is hand to shake his. "Garrett O'Conn-" He had to duck as Carter threw a punch.

"Hey!" Em yelled, stepping between the two men.

"What is it with you and your friends and hitting me?" Garrett asked.

"Dead men usually don't complain," Carter snapped, pulling Emily towards him. "I thought Steve was lying."

"You didn't know?" Em asked. The way he looked at her, and his anger, convinced her that Carter wasn't lying when he said he hadn't. "This is all Sharon's doing."

"Sharon?" the Brit asked, his eyes flicking between the two.

"Sharon Carter," Garrett nodded, looking at Carter's hand on Em's shoulder. "She approached me and offered me a job. You know her?"

"She's my cousin," Carter spat. "Damn it, why didn't she say anything when I was talking about it yesterday?"

"She's going to be pretty pissed when she finds out about last night," Garrett shrugged. "She told me to back off before."

"Steve's going to be here soon," Carter said, ignoring the other man and turning his attention to Emily. "You might want to get cleaned up." He motioned to her neck, and Em clapped a hand over it.

"Steve," Em sighed and hung her head. Of course. It was actually somewhat surprising that he wasn't there already. "Just promise me you won't kill each other while I'm showering."

"No guarantee," Carter smirked, glaring at her former fiancé. But when she squeezed his shoulder, he looked down at her and gave her a sad smile before jerking his head towards her bedroom. "Go."

Once Em was in her room with the door closed, Carter glared at Garrett. "I want the truth, not whatever story you told Emily."

"And who are you?" Garrett asked.

"The only one whose hasn't slept with Emily, and isn't trying to."

OOO

Steve took a deep breath as he stood outside of Em's building, his hands buried in his pockets. He'd already spotted her car, and Carter's up the street. She wouldn't have been happy about early morning visitors, he sighed. But he needed to see her.

The night before, he'd spent the night in his gym, destroying speed and punching bags. Just after dawn, he'd left his seclusion for S.H.I.E.L.D., loathed that he might be to return there, for a shower and change of clothes. He knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. had something to do with Em's ex-fiancé being alive. Fury had told him as much, back when he'd found out about Emily's relationship to Erskine.

"_Rogers, she wouldn't be here in the first place if she knew how much S.H.I.E.L.D. had interfered with her life already." _

He nodded to the doorman and took the stairs, pausing again outside of her door. When he knocked on the door, it was Carter who answered. "She's in the shower," he said with a nod, stepping back to let Steve in.

"She okay?" Steve asked. When he saw Garrett crouched over a box in the living room, he stopped short.

"Any idea what she did with my dog?" the black haired man asked. "I haven't seen McGruff around."

"Emily doesn't have a dog," Steve's voice was sharp.

"I gave him to Todd and Val." All three men turned to look at Em, framed by her bedroom, arms crossed over her chest. "That box is yours, by the way. And I've got a bag full of your clothes in here."

"Gonna give me the futon too?"

"If you want it." Em looked down at the floor and leaned against the doorframe. "Would you mind giving me and Steve some time alone?"

"'Course," Carter nodded.

"You sure?" Garrett asked.

"Yeah. I'll…well, can't even say I'll call you since I don't have your number…"

"I've got yours, unless you've changed it."

"I haven't." She pushed off the door and walked past them all to hold open the front door. Carter clapped Steve on the shoulder and kissed Em's forehead on his way out. Garrett lingered before standing and walking towards her. When he tried to kiss her, though, she turned her cheek; even still, his lips brushed hers for a split second. Steve's fist clenched.

"I'll get the stuff another time." Em nodded and shut the door behind him, leaning against it with her hands behind her.

"So," she said quietly.

"So," he echoed, fists in his pockets again. Em hung her head and bit her lip. And then he heard her choke back a sob. "Hey," he said quickly, crossing the space between them. "Hey, don't cry."

"I'm sorry," Em shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" he asked, pulling her into his arms. Em's fists curled around the lapels of his leather jacket. "You didn't do anything." Steve lifted her off of her feet and carried her to the couch, settling down with her in his lap. She cried for a long while, and he was content to just hold her until she stopped, running his hand up and down her arm.

"Sorry," she said again, wiping at the damp spot on his shirt. "Seems like all I'm doing recently is crying." Steve smiled and dug in his pocket for a handkerchief before dabbing at her cheeks.

"Nothing wrong with that. Why does it smell like smoke in here?" Em chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Cooking accident." Steve chuckled and pressed his lips to hers, tasting the saltiness of her tears.

"You had a busy morning." Em nodded, her cheeks coloring slightly. "You get any sleep last night?" his eyes darted to the box on the floor.

"Not much," she shrugged.

"Come on," Steve sighed, standing up with her again. "I know you when you haven't had enough sleep."

"Steve," she huffed, rolling her eyes as he sat her on the bed. But she didn't protest any more when he shucked off his jacket and crawled in beside her, holding her again. She was comfortable enough to close her eyes again and relax into the smell of leather, sweat, and cologne. A scent that was distinctively Steve.

But it wasn't enough to stop her from thinking. And she felt disgusted with herself. Only an hour before, she'd been with Garrett, and now she was lying with Steve?

"I can hear your brain going a mile a minute," Steve said, and Em tensed.

"Sorry."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." He chuckled darkly, and Em looked up at him, "What?"

"It's just, whenever you say that you don't want to talk about it, you usually do a few minutes later." Em tried to roll out of his arms but he wouldn't let her. "Talk, Emily."

"I can't, not with you."

"Why not?" Steve sounded confused.

"Because…" And then it dawned on him.

"Because you're trying to figure out if it's me or Garrett you want to be with." When she pushed away this time, he let her.

"I'm not…it's just…I'm sorry."

"God, Emily, it's not a hard decision," Steve snapped. "He left you."

"He didn't want to!"

"But he did!" Steve retorted, sitting up as well. "And you went through hell because of it."

"You can't tell me that if Peggy Carter came back, just how you remember her, you wouldn't have a moment's hesitation," Em spat, standing and crossing her arms as if to protect herself from his harsh words.

"I wouldn't," he countered. "Because I love you."

"I love you too. But I still love Garrett."

"You don't owe him anything, Emily."

"I do!" she screeched. "I promised to marry him-"

"You promised me that too-"

"I…" Em spun on her heel and clapped a shaking hand over her mouth. "I'm allowed a moment to be confused, to think."

"But you're getting ready to run now, aren't you?" Em spun back to face him, face shining with tears again, but eyes flashing with anger.

"Does it look like I am? I'm standing right here, Steve, like I told you I would."

"You want to go? Go," Steve said. His voice had a sharp edge, but he walked towards her and tenderly tipped her head up to meet her gaze. "I'm serious, Emily, go."

"Oh, I have your permission now?"

"Like you ever needed it," he smirked. "All I'm saying is that I'm going to be right here when you get back. I'm going show you that I'm the one you belong with. Because I love you, Emily Rose Harthorn, and I'm not going anywhere."

Emily met his gaze before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him hard. Surprised, Steve hesitated just a moment before kissing her back, his hand burying in her hair and tugging slightly. When she gasped against his mouth, Steve's tongue plunged in. Em undid his shirt and pushed if off his shoulders. "I'm quitting my job," she said against his lips.

"Yeah?" his voice trailed off in a groan when she took his lower lip between his teeth.

"Hate S.H.I.E.L.D." Her shirt and bra joined his clothes on the floor, and Steve lifted her so that her core rest against him. Em wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled her hips, drawing a strangled moan from him.

Without warning, Steve dropped her on the bed; Em shrieked as she bounced. Wolfishly, he leaned over her and recaptured her mouth while undoing her jeans, tugging them off with a single pull. As she worked on his khakis, he nudged aside her panties and slipped a finger inside of her.

"Steve," Em panted, grinding against his hand as he pushed a second finger in.

It wasn't long before his pants, and both of their underwear ended up on the floor.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please don't hate me? And yes, this was the end game all along. Some of you picked up on it WAY back in the beginning.

This chapter gave me a bit of trouble because it's a ton of dialogue, which I struggle with. And there was a thing that put me off writing (if you follow me on Tumblr, you have an idea). So apologies for the delay. But it's a day earlier than I thought I'd be posting.

Err...what else. Oh, Em's French. She's saying, "My love? It's me. It's only me, my dear." And Em/Steve angry make up sex. Yes.

Yeah...thanks for reading? And uh...please don't be too harsh in the reviews if you don't like it?


	48. Chapter Forty Seven

Chapter Forty Seven

_Once upon another time__  
__Somebody's hands who felt like mine__  
__Turned the key and took a drive__  
__Was free_

_I recall the sun sank low__  
__Buckley on the radio__  
__Cigarette was burning slow__  
__So breathe_

_Just yellow lines and tire marks__  
__Sun-kissed skin and handle bars__  
__And where I stood was where I was__  
__To be_

_Once Upon Another Time by Sara Bareilles_

* * *

It was chilly, but Em wasn't ready to go back inside just yet. The tip of her cigarette glowed as she took a pull from it, wish it was something just a bit stronger. Smirking, she wondered what Steve's reaction would be if he found out she'd been a bit of a stoner in grad school.

With a sigh, she flicked the tapped the ash off into the Diet Coke can beside her. Since Christine and Eric had been nice enough to put her up for a while, it was the least she could do. Her eyes flickered over to the light that had popped in the room behind her and quickly stubbed out the cigarette.

"Just me," Chris said, ducking out of the window to join her on the roof. "Got anymore of those?"

"Yeah," Em nods, handing over the package.

"Thought you quit."

"I could say the same."

"Touché," she winked while adjusting the bandana covering her hair. "Damn, what I wouldn't give for a blunt right now."

"You read my mind," Em chuckled, bumping her shoulder. The other woman smirked and wrapped her umber colored arm around Em's shoulders, giving her a quick sideways hug.

Christine was of Em's closest friends. They'd met at one of the holiday parties Garrett's unit has held, and had instantly bonded over graduate school woes. Chris had been dating Eric, one of Garrett's co-workers and working on a doctorate in Classics at the time. They'd spent nights at many a drunken nights each other's house during the holidays, spent weeks with each other while their guys were away on long deployments, and had relaxed with a few joints after stressful exams. It was Chris that had been with her when she'd found out Garrett had 'died', and she'd stayed with her until Em's mom had arrived.

And when she'd finally gone back to North Carolina, Em had been a bridesmaid for Chris, and been with her when she found out she was pregnant while Eric was deployed the summer before. When little Alethea (named after the Greek personification of truth) had been born, Em had been chosen as Godmother.

"So you wanna tell me why you drove out here on such short notice?" Chris asked, flicking the cigarette ash into the soda can. "I mean, I've only been trying to get you out here for months…"

"Indiana's never been high on the list of places to visit," Em teased. "Other than Alethea, there's nothing really to see."

"Thanks, bitch, I feel the love." Em laughed, and quickly covered her mouth when Chris shushed her. "We just got the baby down and Eric trying to catch a few hours before work."

"Sorry, sorry."

"But seriously. You've been here three days already. Are you gonna talk?"

"Do I have to?"

"I guess not. But I've got to tell you something, and you can't get mad at me for it."

"What'd you do?"

OOO

_They hadn't talked much after. Steve had held her while she stared at the wall, trying not to think about everything that had happened in the span of 48 hours. _

"_You're going to go, aren't you?" he asked, his lips brushing her bare shoulder. Em rolled onto his back and met his worried gaze. _

"_For a little while," she replied. Steve propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her, shaking his head slightly. _

"_So this wasn't you making your choice?" Em took a deep breath, rubbing a hand across her eyes. _

"_You know how you used to say that we couldn't be together until you got your head straightened out?" _

"_Yeah."_

"_I'm saying it now. This…Him being alive changes things."_

"_It doesn't have to change _us_," Steve said earnestly, draping his free arm over her waist. "Emily-"_

"_It does," she said before biting her lip. "Regardless of if I…whether or not I chose… Ugh!" Huffing in frustration, she pulled the blanket over her head._

"_Sweetheart," Steve sighed, trying to pull the blanket away._

"_This is going to be easiest to say if you're not looking at me when I say it," she said, and he withdrew his hand. As the silence dragged on, his gut started to clench. Until, finally, Em spoke again. "You and I only really related to each other because we'd both lost someone. And now that I haven't, I don't know-"_

"_Don't." The order in his tone made Emily stop short. Steve ripped the blanket away and gave her a hard look. "Don't try to rewrite us just so this can be easier for you. Just because he wasn't really dead doesn't mean you didn't lose him."_

"_I'm not 'rewriting us'," Em protested. "And I didn't lose him, not the same way you lost Peggy. You only started really opening up to me-"_

"_When I realized that you weren't trying to make me forget about her and about everything else. You were the only one that didn't want me to just move on."_

"_Because that's what everyone wanted me to do-"_

"_Because you were the only one who didn't see me as a tool to be used. _That _is when I started falling in love with you. Not because of something in your past. I love you, exactly the way you are. And I'm not going to give up on this, because I still want to spend the rest of my life with you."_

"_You sure know what to say to make a girl start crying," Em said before biting her lip again and swiping at her eyes. Her tone was light, but Steve could still see her struggling with everything. _

"_Like I said, I'm going to be right here waiting for you to get back." _

OOO

Another night, another cigarette.

Emily rolled her phone in one hand, the other holding the cigarette rubbing her temple. After taking another drag, she pulled up a contact and hit the send button, closing her eyes as the phone rang.

"Was wondering when you were going to call." His tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of worry.

"Been a bit busy with babysitting duty," Em replied.

"Your goddaughter?" Carter asked.

"Yup. She's such a good baby, but it's exhausting taking care of her." He chuckled, and Em smirked, flicking the ash into the soda can. "So how have you been?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one that fled the state."

"I'm…confused as hell. And I don't have anyone that's neutral in this except for you."

"I'm hardly neutral, love." There was a squeak, and Em could just picture Carter with his feet on his desk, arm crossed over his chest. "You know my vote is for our dear Captain."

Emily sighed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Carter echoed. When he spoke again, all of the humor was gone from his voice. "I don't think I could ever forgive someone who hurt me the same way Garrett hurt you." He listened to her breathing for a moment before continuing on. "It was painful to see, Emily."

"Why wasn't my hospitalization in my records?" she asked, sniffling softly.

"Because it wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D.'s business," Carter sighed. "I was just glad you'd done it. I was scared for you for a while. Nearly broke cover to convince your family to do it."

"Would have liked to hear you explain all of this to them," she gave a watery chuckle. "I hear it now. 'So, yes, a super secret organization's been following your family for years. We think that your daughter might need psychiatric help because we've watched her downward spiral-'"

"It's not a laughing matter, Em," Carter cut her off.

"I know," she said quietly before chuckling. "When did my life become such a fucking soap opera?"

"The moment Coulson handed you that folder in the parking garage."

"Were you there?"

"I was. You looked so happy walking across that stage." Em chuckled and shook her head. It seemed like eons ago. "I was in the car, watching, when he approached you. Had I known what was going to happen…I don't know if I'd have recommended you for the job."

"Oh?"

"You would have been happy in Texas or Tennessee or even here in New York, had we not decided to interfere."

"What do you mean?"

"Job offers. You had a few that our tech team diverted." Ems squeezed her eyes shut and took another drag of the cigarette. She couldn't even bring herself to be angry at the news of this new betrayal. It was too tiring. She heard him sigh. "I'm truly sorry for my part in this mess."

"I know."

"Are you coming home soon?"

"I don't know." There was a resignation in his silence.

"If you need anything at all, you just have to call me and I'll be there as quickly as humanly possible."

"I know, Carter."

"I love you, Emily."

"I love you, too."

OOO

_Emily felt Steve watching her as she walked beside him, but she ignored him. Her mind kept running over the different ways this could play out: the overly dramatic, the stoic way, or the middle ground. At the moment she was fluctuating between the middle ground and the dramatic._

_Of course the people she wanted to see the most weren't available. Fury hadn't been seen in weeks, and Coulson had gone back to __Mount Athena__. So she was deprived the satisfaction of screaming in their faces, demanding answers for why they'd fucked with her life._

_Human Resources had taken her letter of resignation, effective immediately, with some surprise. Rather than waiting around to sign the requisite paperwork, Em told them to bring it to the conference room, where she'd be collecting her things. _

_Carter met them with boxes, and the three silently packed Emily's things, sorting out what she was and wasn't allowed to take. Just before she was about to put her doctoral thesis into a box, Steve stopped her. "Mind if I borrow it? While you're gone?" _

"_You want to read this?" Em asked, holding the thick binder. "It's pretty dull if you're not into nuanced detail."_

"_I'd like to give it a shot," he shrugged, and she ducked her head and smiled slightly before handing it to him. _

"_I'll take this to your car," Carter said, lifting one of the boxes and turning to leave. In the doorway, he paused. "You know, I'm going to miss being able to come see you down here."_

"_I'm still going to be in the city," she sighed, spraying down the whiteboards and washing away months of work. _

"_I know. It just won't be the same without you here." _

"_He's right," Steve sighed. "It's not the same." _

"_I can't stay here. Not after...everything." Carter set the box on the ground and walked over, pulling her into his arms. He stroked her back before kissing her temple._

"_We know." _

"_Excuse me," a woman said, peering around the door. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I've got your paperwork, Dr. Harthorn."_

"_Thanks," Em said, untangling herself from Carter's embrace and walking towards her. There was a sizable stack of paper in her arms. "Show me where to sign."_

"_It's a little more involved than that," the woman smiled shyly, glancing at Steve and Carter. "This could take a while." _

"_We'll finish up here," Steve said, nodding at them. Em gave him a crooked smile before ushering the woman out._

_They settled in the cafeteria and the woman conducted the exit interview over a cup of coffee. When asked why she was choosing to leave S.H.I.E.L.D., Emily sarcastically replied, "How much space do you have on the form?" When the HR representative's eyebrows had disappeared into her hair, Em felt like she'd done a good job._

_Not long after, she was left alone to read over the confidentiality forms, the disclaimers that S.H.I.E.L.D. would be monitoring her actions for the next year to ensure she didn't breach the contract, penalties for revealing classified information, etc. She'd just taken off her glasses and flung them onto the larger, yet-to-be-read stack when she spied Agent Sharon Carter enter the room. The agent scanned the room while waiting to pay for her coffee, eyes landing on Emily._

_Em's hands were clenched tightly under the table when Sharon approached, a small smile playing on the other woman's lips. "Carter told me you were leaving," she said before taking a sip of her drink _

"_Did he?" she replied, her voice shaking with barely contained rage. As much as she wanted to hit her, logically, she knew that there was no way it would happen. "Good for him."_

"_Paperwork going well?"_

"_Is there something I can do for you? Because if not, I'd ask you to please get the hell away from me."_

_Sharon cocked an eyebrow, smirking around her cup. "Just wanted to come and say my farewells, Dr. Harthorn. Good luck, wherever you end up." She raised the coffee in a mock salute before turning and walking away, hips swaying in an exaggerated motion._

"_What the fuck have I ever done to _you?_" Em demanded before she could stop herself. _

"_Excuse me?" Sharon's eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to face her. _

"_What the fuck did I ever do to you, to make you take _everything_ from me?" _

"_Just doing my job," she replied. "No personal vendetta, just doing what needed to be done."_

"_You couldn't have found anyone else to be an agent?" Em hissed._

"_Agent O'Connell was a good recruit. My finding him, admittedly, was because of his proximity to you," Sharon eyed her. "But the decision to approach him was due to his merit. On my part, at least."_

"_Your part?"_

"_S.H.I.E.L.D. had other reasons, which I'm not at liberty to discuss. Now, I wish you the best of luck with whatever you do." This time, when she turned to leave, Em didn't stop her._

_But she was still fuming when Garrett slid into the seat in front of her. "Your face is doing the pinch-y, angry thing. What happened?"_

"_Life happened, Garr." With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes before putting on her glasses._

"_Talk to me, Rosie. You used to be able to tell me everything."_

"_You know I hate that nickname," she said, her lip twitching into a smile._

"_You didn't used to."_

"_I always did. You just refused to listen."_

"_Petite Rose. Isn't that what your family calls you? Little Rose…Rosie…makes sense in my head." He grinned when she chuckled. _

"_Your head has always been a strange place, Garrett."_

"_You know it, babe. What's all this anyways?" He motioned to the massive pile of papers in between them._

"_My out processing paperwork."_

"_You're quitting?"_

"_I resigned this morning, effective immediately."_

"_Why?" he asked, and then held up a hand, "no, wait, forget I said that part. I meant, what are you going to do now?"_

"_No idea. But…" she bit her lip and looked down at the table. "You should know, I'm going out of town for a bit."_

"_Em, you can't keep running from-"_

"_This isn't running," she cut him off. "If I were, you wouldn't even know where I was going. I prefer to look at this as using my new found free time to visit my goddaughter."_

"_Who?" he cocked an eyebrow._

"_Chris and Eric's daughter, Alethea."_

"_They had a kid?"_

"_Yeah," Em laughed. "A few months ago. I haven't had a chance to go out there and see her yet."_

"_Damn," he said, his voice awestruck. "Eric's a dad."_

"_Yeah," Em dug her phone out of her pocket and scrolled to the most recent picture message. "That's her." _

"_She's lucky, looks more like Chris than Eric," he chuckled, looking at his best friend and his daughter. "They doing okay?"_

"_Yeah," Em nodded, "Chris is lecturing, and Eric got out. He's a private security contractor, seems to like it. He adores Alethea."_

"_Crazy," he shook his head and handed her the phone back, their fingers brushing. "What about Matt?"_

"_Still in. Last I heard he was stationed in Georgia, dating someone."_

"_Good for him." They spent the next half an hour talking about their mutual friends, only pausing when Garrett got up to get them sodas and a Kit Kat bar to split. "Joe, how's that son of a bitch?" _

_At that, Emily paused and looked down at the table. Garrett reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "He, uh…" she bit her lip. "He didn't make it. Helicopter crash in Afghanistan." Garr's grip tightened and he ducked his head. _

"_When?" he asked after a long moment, his voice rough. _

"_Last year. He'd been transferred to Florida. A bunch of us drove up to New Jersey for the funeral." _

"_He wouldn't have liked that," Garrett said, sniffling. "Said he always wanted a quick funeral, not a big show."_

"_It wasn't," Em assured him. "Just a couple people from the unit, and some of his friends from home."_

"_Was mine?" he asked, looking up to meet her gaze. Em felt her heart clench when she saw the tears shining in his eyes. _

"_Yours was…It was a beautiful service," her throat was tightening, remembering that awful day. "Actually, to be honest, I don't recall much of that day. Except for that I had a big mud spot on my flats."_

"_Yeah?" he chuckled darkly._

"_Yeah," she smiled sadly. "I spent a lot of that day looking at my shoes."_

"_Have you," he stopped and swallowed against the lump in his throat. "My parents?"_

"_They're okay," Em reached up to flick away a tear. "They miss you like crazy, but they're getting by. Your dad started taking community college history classes."_

"_Oh god." That teased a smile out of him. "Bet that's driving Mom crazy."_

"_She might have mentioned that she was getting a bit sick of the 'Did you know that' game. And your Mom? She started that little bakery out of the house like she's been talking about doing for ages."_

"_Good for her," Garrett smiled. "I bet she's making a killing."_

"_It's pretty good. She was telling me that she's got a few weddings booked that she's nervous about."_

"_You talk to them often?"_

"_Not as much as I should," she admitted._

"_I'm glad you kept in touch with them, either way. You should have heard them when I told them I was going to propose. 'Garrett, that's the smartest thing you've ever done'. Dad told me not to get my hopes up, that you were going to see right through me and say no because Yankee girls don't marry Southern boys." Em snorted and shook her head._

"_I love your Dad." He smiled and squeezed her hand again, leaning back in his chair. _

"_He loves you too. Both of 'em do. Mom was always bragging about how she was going to have a doctor as a daughter-in-law. Forget, you know, son in Special Forces. Nope, chopped liver next to Dr. O'Connell." _

_Em felt her breath hitch, and fought back the growing lump in her throat. Dr. O'Connell. For nearly a year, she'd thought that by the time she graduated, she would have been married to Garrett. He'd called her Dr. O'Connell every time he'd seen her working on her thesis, or ready to throw in the towel with a student. _That _had gone through her head more than once on the day she graduated and had been announced as Dr. Harthorn._

"_You were really beautiful at graduation, by the way," he said, as if reading her mind. She started._

"_You were there?" _

"_Nah, I wish. Was in the field at the time, but they were streaming it online so I got to see you. I'm proud of you, Em, I really am. I know you didn't think you were going to finish a few times but look at you now." _

"_Thanks," Em smiled, her cheeks flushing as he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. _

"_I've…I've gotta get back to work now, but," he dug in his pocket and pulled out an old receipt and snagged her pen, quickly scribbling his number. "Give me a call, ok? I miss talking to you." _

"_Yeah," she nodded, taking the crumpled paper from him. "We've got a lot to talk about." His expression turned solemn when he stood and jerked a nod._

"_We do. And I'll explain as much as I can if you give me the chance." When he circled the table, Em pushed back and stood as well. Garrett smiled and sadly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She relaxed against him, resting her head on his shoulder as he twisted a strand of her hair between his fingers. "I love you, Emily."_

"_I love you too, Garrett." They stayed like that for a long while until he sighed and pulled back slightly. Sighing, Em looked up at him, her arms still wrapped around his waist. When he pressed his lips to her forehead, she smiled, closing her eyes._

"_I missed this, too," he said softly, resting his forehead against hers. _

"_Me too." _

"_Travel safe, alright?" _

"_I will." _

"_Let me know when you get there?" _

"_Sure." _

"_Come back?" That made her chuckle, and the both opened their eyes to smile at each other. "I don't feel like chasing you halfway across the country. I'd do it, but-"_

"_You hate road trips." _

"_You know it," he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. Em's eyes roamed his face before she reached up to trace the scar from his lip across his cheek. He tilted his head slightly so she could see the full extent, and shyly met her gaze when she finished._

"_Did it…was it bad?" _

"_It hurt," he nodded. "Lots of shrapnel. It's not too pretty under here." He ducked his head, drawing her attention to his torso. _

"_C-can I see?" He looked around the empty cafeteria for a moment, watching the bored cashier, and nodded. Em relinquished her hold on him as he tugged at his black t-shirt, which was tucked into his black cargo-pants. _

_She sucked in a shaky breath when he lifted the shirt to reveal his stomach and chest. Garrett's skin was pitted and scarred; Em reached out with a trembling hand to trace the one near his heart. "I know it looks bad," he said softly, "but I'm still here." Em nodded and sucked her lower lip between her teeth as her hand settled over his heart. _

"_Yeah," she whispered, feeling the thumping of his heart against her palm. "You are." With tears in her eyes, she looked up to meet his gaze. Her lips brushed against his before Em pulled back, hesitating for just a moment before kissing him again. "I missed you so much, babe," she said softly. Garrett nodded, cradling her face between his hands. _

"_I missed you too, Rosie. But we've got a second chance now, and…I don't want to lose you again." _

"_I can't, Garr. I can't make promises." _

"_I know," he nodded, resting his forehead against hers again. "I just…I want you to know that I didn't stop thinking about you at all. I wanted to come home." She slid her hands up his arms, covering his hands with hers. Em turned to kiss his palm before stepping back. _

"_I've got to finish this stuff."_

"_Yeah," Garrett nodded. "Could…could you do me a favor?" _

"_What?" _

"_It's stupid but," he smiled and dug out his wallet, rummaging around in it for a second before pulling out a plastic token. "You mind?" _

_Em choked out a laugh and took it from him, turning over the small bit of plastic in her hand. It was one of the go-cart tokens from their first date. When he'd deployed the first time, Garr had dug it out and, even with Em teasing him about sentimentality, had made her kiss it for him. He'd claimed that it was his good luck charm, and had made her do it every time he left. "Sure," Em said, taking it from him and pressing a kiss into the divot. When she handed it back to Garrett, he mimicked her action before returning it to his wallet; she could see where the leather had molded against it._

"_Be safe," Garrett said, brushing his lips against hers once more before leaving._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, so this chapter was quickly getting out of hand, length wise. The document was nearing 20 pages, so I decided to split it in (almost) half. The second part should be ready soon. As you probably figured out, the italics were 'flashbacks', or as flashback-y as a few days ago can be, lol.

Grad students smoking pot? ALL. THE. TIME. Holy crap. Sometimes they need to chill after stressful days of teaching undergrads/writing their thesis. I am not speaking from personal experience (not being sarcastic here), just from chatting with PhD students.

A lot of you seem to really hate Garrett. And to that I say, PLEASE DON'T! Try to think back to the flashbacks in the beginning of the story. He's not an evil guy. And I hope this 'little' scene with him shows you that he's not a horrible person.

However, you have free reign to hate Sharon.

As always, thank you for reading, and I love you guys! Seriously =) You make my day with all of your fantastic reviews.


	49. Chapter Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Eight

_I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back  
The less I give, the more I get back  
Oh, your hands can heal, your hands can bruise  
I don't have a choice but I still choose you_

_Oh, I don't love you, but I always will_  
_Oh, I don't love you, but I always will_  
_I don't love you, but I always will_

_Poison & Wine – The Civil Wars_

* * *

"It's definitely about a guy," Chris announced, stubbing out her cigarette.

"No it's not," Em lied, looking out over the quiet neighborhood.

"It so is. What's his name?"

"There is no guy."

"Please tell me it's not…ugh, what was his name? Dave? That professor in your department?"

"You knew about Dave?!" Em screeched, turning to face her friend.

"Honey, we all knew about Dave. You're not exactly the best at sneaking around." With a groan, Em put her face in her hands and shook her head.

"No, it's not Dave. I still can't believe you didn't say anything."

"A woman's got needs," Chris shrugged. "So what's his name?"

"Who?"

"The guy!"

"You're insufferable."

"I'm persistent. And letting you stay here, running from your problems, _again_. So spill."

"Steve."

"Huh?"

"Steve," Em rolled her eyes. "His name is Steve Rogers."

"You're kidding, right?" Chris laughed. "You, you actually found a guy named Steve Rogers?" Em sighed as her friend flung herself back on to the roof in a fit of giggles; she'd forgotten that Chris had been around for a few of her more colorful rants about _fucking Steve Rogers_ and how there seemed to be no information on him available to the public.

"Yeah, funny, huh?"

"Pretty hilarious, actually. So now," the other woman tugged on her should until Em laid down as well, "why are you and Steve having issues?"

"We're…" she struggled on how to go about telling one of her best friends that Garrett was the issue, without actually saying it.

"Garrett?" Em sat up quickly and looked at Chris, wondering, not for the first time, if she could read minds. "What? It's usually Garrett when it comes to you."

"What does that mean?"

"It's just – and please don't get mad at me for saying this – " Chris said, sitting up as well, "you use him as a shield."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, no one blames you for being wrecked when he died. But you need to move on, Sweetie. You can't keep living for a dead guy."

"But what if he wasn't dead?"

"Em," Chris sighed.

"No, hypothetically," Em said, near tears. "Hypothetically, Garrett is alive and he finds out that I've been seeing someone else. What should I do?"

"Punch him."

"Chris!"

"Ok, fine. So hypothetically, how does he come back to life? Are we talking vampires or-"

"Normal human, just back. Alive." Chris nodded and put her chin in her hand. After a minute or two of silence, Em opened her mouth to say something, but she hushed her.

"Ok! Got it. Sisyphus."

"Sorry?"

"Sisyphus. He's the only 'back from the dead' myth I can think of right now."

"Real life issue here, not a myth."

"I thought this was a hypothetical?" she raised an eyebrow. "Anyways. So before Sisyphus 'died' he told his wife that she wasn't to do any of the burial rites."

"Alright…?"

"He had this plan, you see. When he got to the Underworld, he begged Persephone, the Queen of the Underworld, to let him to back to Earth and haunt his wife for not giving him the proper rites. Persephone agreed and he came back."

"And what does this have to do with Garrett?"

"Your hypothetical Garrett could be haunting you."

"Chris, he's not a ghost."

"No, I don't mean in the 'wooo' ghost way. I mean, specter from your past type thing. You, my dear, need to live in the present, and that means not letting Garrett ruin your time with Steve."

"I…It's not that simple. There's feeling involved, and who did I actual cheat on? Am I still engaged to Garrett? 'Cause that would mean that I cheated on him with Steve. But if not, then I cheated on Steve with Garrett. Either way I'm a horrible person because –"

"You're getting pretty worked up about a hypothetical." Em wanted to scream with frustration. She wanted to yell and rant about how this wasn't a hypothetical, and that she was actually struggling with this problem. After a moment, she hung her head and wiped at her eyes.

"Do you think it's possible to be in love with two people at the same time?"

"Yeah, but…I don't think that would be this situation."

"Why not?" Em asked, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around them.

"Because – and I say this as someone who loved Garrett dearly – you wouldn't pick him anyways."

"I wouldn't?" she lifted her head to look at her friend.

"No. I mean, he'd have to account for why he's been missing, and why he hurt you so badly. Besides," Chris smiled and wrapped her arm around Em, pulling her in for a hug. "You are definitely not the same girl you were with him."

"I'm not?"

"Nope. Love you, Emmie, but looking at you now and then? Definitely different people. You're a hell of a lot stronger now then you were back then."

Em sniffled before turning to embrace her friend. "So Steve?"

"In this hypothetical situation? Yes. In reality? Absolutely. Because you can't stay with a ghost. Now," Chris grinned and reached for the bottle of wine next to her and took a swig. "You gonna tell me about this _Steve Rogers_? He anything like the man in your posters?"

"You have no idea," Em gave a watery chuckle and took a swig as well.

OOO

Steve grit his teeth while hitting the punching bag.

Peggy.

Bucky.

Howard.

Dernier.

Morita.

Colonel Phillips.

Dr. Erskine.

Mom.

Pops.

Emily.

Emily.

Emily.

His fists flew faster, picturing Emily pulling him in for a kiss, smiling in her sleep, coming apart underneath him, running into the ocean with her arms flung out…

And then he pictured her pulling _Garrett_ in for a kiss on that rooftop. Letting him put his hands on her.

The chain snapped

Steve's shoulders sagged as he looked at the sand leaking out of the bag onto the floor. Anger still unabated, he replaced the bag, he squared up his shoulders and started again.

"Nice one." Steve looked up and scowled at the man he'd studiously been avoiding. "You got a minute to talk?"

"Now isn't a great time," he snarled, turning his attention back to the bag. A grunt slipped out as he simultaneously threw a strong punch and tried to hold it back.

"I'm sure it isn't," Garrett shrugged. "But then again, it's never going to be one, is it? Believe me, I'm engaged to the Queen of Avoidance." Steve's fists clenched and punched again.

"Were," he growled, "You _were_ engaged to her." Garrett shrugged, running a hand through his high and tight haircut. Grinding Steve continued his assault on the bag.

"Look, you and I, we're never going to be buds, I get that," Garrett said, walking towards him and steadying the swinging bag. A small but vocal part of Steve wanted to punch it again, if only so that Garrett would be shoved back a little. "It's kind of the hazard of being in love with the same woman. But we need to figure this out."

"It's Emily's choice," Steve spat.

"Yeah, and she ran for it. It's kind of what she does."

"I _know_ that."

"Geez," Garrett rolled his eyes at the ferocity of Steve's words. "I get it, you know her too."

"I know her better than you ever could. You don't know the kind of person she became after you left her, do you?" Steve challenged. "Because she's not the same. You," he jabbed a finger at Emily's former fiancé, "broke her."

"I – You think I don't know that?" Garrett snarled. "You think I _wanted_ this?! I had my fucking life planned out, and then this shit happened." He pulled up his shirt to reveal jagged scars decorating his torso. "And no part of it involved leaving Emily."

Steve turned away from the irate man and began to unwrap his hands. "It didn't 'just happen. You volunteered for it. And that doesn't change how much you hurt her."

"I know it doesn't," Garrett sighed, lowering his shirt. "But I didn't leave her because I wanted to. How was I supposed to know that the tests I signed up for would lead to all of this? I thought I'd died. When I woke up… It's FUBAR."

"That it is," Steve agreed, shoving the first wrapping into his gym bag. "But you could have found some way to contact her. You were a Green Beret. You could have found a way in two years." Garrett let out a derisive snort.

"Yeah, because S.H.I.E.L.D. was just going to let me call up my fiancée after they just faked my death."

"Did you even try?" Steve challenged.

"You're damn straight I tried, but it's pretty hard to when your guts are half hanging out of your body and you're so weak that you need help to hit the head."

"Later-"

"Later," Garrett cut him off, "they had Agent Carter all over me just to make sure I wouldn't call her, or my parents. So yeah, it wasn't just her that I lost. It was my entire fucking life, okay?"

"I know what that's like," Steve smirked, shoving the second wrapping into the bag and retrieving a towel.

"And then they found you," he ignored him. "And I knew that you were my shot at getting her back. All I had to do was bring her to Coulson's attention and BAM, get a her job at S.H.I.E.L.D., let her know I'm alive, and we're back on track for the two kids, mortgage, and dog."

Steve clenched his jaw while running the towel over his face, thinking of how similar his future plans for his life with Emily mirrored Garrett's.

"Imagine my surprise when they already know about her. And that her family's involved with you. I mean, damn, I knew that you were always going to be a part of our life, but fuck, so directly? Listening to her ramble on about you is one thing, but to know that her _grandfather_ was responsible for you being who you are? Jesus."

"Not my fault," Steve said, tossing the towel back into his bag. "You had your chance with her."

"I'm not giving up without a fight, you know. This is a fucked up situation, but I love her as much now as I did the day I asked her to marry me."

"Good to know where we stand," Steve said before picking up his bag and leaving the gym.

OOO

Emily lifted a giggling Alethea over her head and lowered the squirming girl down to press a kiss to her slobbery lips. The girl laughed as Em hoisted her high again, repeating the movement to kiss her cheek.

"You sure you're going to be okay watching her tonight?" Chris asked.

"Tell Mommy that Auntie Em's got plenty of babysitting experience," Em grinned.

"She'll be fine," Eric grinned. "Thanks for doing this Em."

"Consider it my 'I'm sorry I'm a shi- crappy friend for forgetting your anniversary and crashing your house' present," she smiled, settling the baby on her hip.

"Be good for Emily," Eric said, leaning over her to kiss his daughter's cheek. "You've got our numbers if you need anything." Without hesitation, he kissed Em's cheek as well before smoothing down Alethea's onesie.

"Have fun," Em nodded as Chris looked worriedly at her daughter. "I promise, only one tattoo tonight."

"Don't even joke about that," the other woman sighed. "She gives you any trouble, we'll be back here ASAP."

"Go! I swear, I've got this." With an exasperated but loving look, Eric dragged his wife from the house, mouthing a 'Thank you' to Em as he shut the door. "Now, Miss Ma'am," Em said, turning her attention to the little girl in her arms. "I'm thinking it's time for a bottle, bath, and bed." The pout the girl gave her made Em chuckle as she set her in the swing and went to get the tub ready.

Thankfully, it wasn't too bad of a night. Alethea had giggled through her bath, and Emily was proud of herself for accomplishing it without getting too soaked. She'd peppered kisses over the baby's face while giving her an after bath massage and slipped on her PJs. During her bottle, she'd dozed in Em's arms, only waking long enough for Em to put the bottle on the coffee table and carry her to the crib. After a few pitiful, fake cries, Alethea fell asleep.

And Em grabbed her cell phone.

* * *

_And maybe we got lost in translation_

_Maybe I asked for too much_

_But maybe this thing was a masterpiece_

'_til you tore it all up_

_Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well_

_Hey you call me up again just to break me like a promise_

_So casually cruel in the name of being honest_

_I'm a crumbled up piece of paper lying here_

_Cause I remember it all all all too well_

_Time won't fly it's like I'm paralyzed by it_

_I'd like to be my old self again_

_But I'm still trying to find it_

_All Too Well – Taylor Swift_

* * *

"Hey! I was just thinking about you."

"You're always thinking about me," Em replied, falling easily into their old banter.

"True, but this time it wasn't inappropriate. Well, I lied. But more PG-13 than R, but it might have been twisting towards NC-17." She chuckled and shook her head. "Anyways, enough about my fantasies. How've you been, Rosie?"

"Okay. I'm babysitting right now."

"Damn, no phone sex."

Em bit her lip to stop from laughing. "I always hated doing that."

"Skype sex, way better."

"Never did it. Must have been with your other girlfriend."

"Maybe." That made them both chuckle. "God, it's good to hear you laugh again, babe."

"You too," she sighed, scooting back so that her back rest against the house, her legs scraping against the shingles. "But I actually called you because we need to talk. About everything."

"Ok," his voice was instantly serious. "What's on your mind?"

"Why? Why did S.H.I.E.L.D. pick you? Sharon said that it was on merit, but what made you stand out?"

"Other than my natural charm?" he teased, trying to make her laugh again. When she sighed, he huffed. "Ok, you can't be angry with me, but I did something kind of stupid."

"What?" Em asked.

"I…ok, you remember when you were doing your last rounds of tests before finishing up your studies?"

"Yes."

"I didn't want to worry you or stress you out or something, but I kind of signed up for some tests."

"What kind of tests?"

"Nothing too bad, just…medical tests. They wanted to try out a new injection to make sure that our squad was in top shape. So I signed up for it, and we got a bit more cash."

"Why would you do that?" she gasped.

"'Cause I was trying to save up for your ring. The way they explained it was that it was just a newer, legal version of steroids. And they told me that it'd either work, or there'd probably be no bad side effects."

"They can't promise things like that."

"It does matter, because the only side effects I had were good ones. It kind of worked on me."

"What d'ya mean, it kind of worked on you?"

"I…I don't know how to explain it. I just felt stronger, and I had a lot more endurance. Wasn't long after that, that Agent Carter approached me. She told me that S.H.I.E.L.D. would be a better fit, that I could go where, and that we could stay anywhere as long as we wanted."

"Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Cause you were busy with your exams."

"Bullshit, Garrett. You didn't tell me because you knew I'd tell you not to do it."

"Em, we needed the money."

"No we didn't! We were getting by just fine with my stipend and your paycheck!"

"I wanted to get you a nice ring! After everything you put up with, you deserved it."

"Garrett, putting your health at risk to get me a diamond was stupid."

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you." Em huffed with frustration.

"And you wonder why I have trouble trusting you sometimes."

"It was a one time thing, Rosie. I'm fine."

"Except for this whole mess we're in now."

"Yeah, except for this." They were quiet for a long time before he spoke again. "I love you, Emily."

"I love you too," she sighed. "God, Garrett, what made you think that was okay?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but it's in the past. I can't go back and change it," he stated, his voice brusque. "We can only live with the consequences."

"You did it without at least talking to me about it! We were supposed to be starting a life together, and –"

"Emily, please. Things have been tough enough without going back and rehashing the past."

"You think it was tough out there? Do you think it was easy for me without you?"

"That's not what I'm saying, Em-"

"You thought every single day wasn't a god damn marathon of my life without you?" Tears were streaming freely down her cheeks and Em swiped angrily at them. "I was _finally_ moving on, Garrett. I was _finally_ happy."

He was quiet for a long moment, and she could hear him breathing over the line. "Did I ever tell you about when I thought it was over?"

"No," Em spat, not entirely sure she wanted to hear it.

"When the IED went off, I thought it was over. My ears were ringing, and god, it hurt so bad. I just wanted it to end. And it did. But right before everything went black, you wanna know the very last thing that I thought about?"

"What?" She dreaded the answer.

"You. I thought about how I promised you that I'd come home soon. I thought about our trip to Rodanthe right before I left, and how beautiful you looked when we went dancing, and that I was really happy you'd stopped stressing about your dissertation."

Emily pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing. Still, she sniffled loudly, and she heard Garrett groan. "I'm sorry, babe, I didn't mean to make you cry."

"What kind of life could we have, Garr?" Em asked, ducking her head and running a hand through her hair. "Everyone thinks you're dead. I can't even talk to my friends about what's bothering me because I can't tell them that you're alive!"

"I…It's only our old friends. Anyone we meet now, they can know."

"So I'm supposed to drop everyone else? Am I supposed to lie to your parents? Mine? What would we do if we wanted to get married?"

"I _want_ to marry you, Emily. I want to marry you so badly."

"We can't. Even if I chose you, we could never be anything more than we are right now."

"So you're choosing him," Garrett said, his voice catching at the end.

"I'm choosing a life where I don't have to lie to everyone I love."

"Rosie," he pleaded, and Em could hear the tears in his voice. "You're never going to be able to be honest with your family about who he is."

"You don't know that," she sobbed, wiping at her eyes.

"There's always going to be something you can't tell them."

"Not nearly a big a secret as you." He chuckled sadly.

"You're right. I just…I can't lose you again, Emily."

"I know. And I'm not saying I don't love you, Garrett. I love you so much, and that's why this is so hard."

"You know the hardest thing about all of this?"

"What?"

"I did it for us. Everything. It was so that we could have a better life, and now it's the reason that we can't be together." At that, Em wasn't able to hold back her tears. She cried, wrapping an arm around her knees and resting her forehead on them. Garrett was trying to calm her down, saying how much he loved her and how much he wanted to hold her at that moment.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. I love you."

"I know Emily. I know baby."

"So sorry. I wi-wish this hadn't ha-happened. We would have been married," she sobbed. "We could have had babies."

"I know," he was crying now too. "We would have been really happy." Her hands ached to reach out for him as her heart broke in half. "I… I'll back off if you want me to. Because I want you to be happy. And if that means you pick him, I want you to be happy with Steve, alright? Because that's going to make me happy. But I want you to know that I'm always going to be here if you change your mind."

"Ok," Em nodded. "I'll see you around, though, right?"

"Not for a while, babe. We're both going to need some time."

"I'll miss you."

"Me too. I-I should probably go."

"Ok. Garrett?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. And that's never going to change."

"I know, Rosie. I love you too."

* * *

_Nobody said it was easy_

_It's such a shame for us to part_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_No one ever said it would be this hard_

_Oh, take me back to the start_

_The Scientist – Glee cover of the Coldplay_

* * *

Steve smiled as his phone lit up, and hurriedly answered the call while lying back on his bed. "Hi."

"Hi," Emily said, sounding upset. His stomach clenched.

"What's wrong?"

"I…I told Garrett that it's over."

"Oh." He tried to keep his tone even, but the grin spreading across his face was difficult to mask. "He took it badly?"

"I think he was resigned to it. H-he told me to be happy with you."

"That was big of him."

"It was," Emily agreed. The silence that followed was uncomfortable, weighted with things that both needed to say but didn't want to.

Steve wanted to know if there'd been anything after that resignation, if Garrett was just using this as some way of manipulating her. After all, he'd said he wasn't giving up without a fight.

"Are you coming home now?"

"I need to tell you something, Steve." The way she said it had him sitting up in bed. "And I'm not sure you're going to want me to come home."

"It can't be anything that bad," he tried to assure her.

"I'm not the only one that needs to make a choice. I," he heard the catch in her voice. "How do I say this?"

"You're scaring me, Emily."

"Sorry," she sighed. "Ok. I'm just going to say it."

"Alright."

"I nearly slept with Garrett."

Silence.

"What do you mean 'nearly'?" he asked, feeling his stomach churning.

"We-" he heard Emily gulp. "Remember the bases?" Steve hummed his answer, fists clenching in the sheets. "Second rounding third."

"I see." His voice was steady but cold. "But you stopped?"

"Yes!" she blurted, her voice shaking. "But I need you to know-"

"What stopped you?" Steve was hoping that she'd come to her senses and realized that it was wrong, that she was betraying what they had.

"The pancakes burnt."

"Ah."

"And then I realized what we were doing and…god, I'm so sorry Steve. I don't do this, but my head was all over the place and…"

"Yeah."

Emily was quiet for a long time before she spoke again. Steve could tell she was crying. "I-I won't make any excuses. I'm so, so sorry."

Garrett had told him he wasn't going down without a fight, so he should have expected something like this. But it didn't stop the anger and betrayal from washing over him.

"Steve?" It took a minute to realize that Emily had been trying to get his attention.

"Huh?"

"Chris – my friend from school – she set up an interview with the university out here for me, before I could say no. And…I was wondering how seriously I should take it."

That made him pause. Was she asking him to decide now if he could forgive her? Because, at this very moment, he wasn't entirely sure he could.

"I'd take it seriously," Steve said after a beat. His heart clenched when he heard her choked sob.

"Ok."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

"I, uh, guess I'll talk to you later, then."

"Yeah. I love you, Steve."

"You too."

When the call was over, Steve stood up and resisted the urge to fling the phone across the room. Clenching his jaw and blinking against the gathering tears, he grabbed his gym bag and retreated to his sanctuary.

It was almost a relief when Fury showed up. Part of Steve wanted to yell at the man for having orchestrated the mess that was now his life, but instead he listened to what he had to say. The mission would at least give him something to concentrate on.

"Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we out to know now?" Fury asked as Steve strode towards the door.

"You should have left it in the ocean," he replied, and mentally added 'Like me'.

OOO

Two days later, Emily smoothed down her pencil skirt and waited for the department chair to come out of a meeting. For an interview, they had arranged for her to guest lecture an undergraduate American History course. She'd spent the last few nights preparing slides and reviewing years of notes, her heart stopping every time 'Captain America' appeared in them.

Nerves had gotten to her as she prepared, and more than once she'd been forced to give up and retreat to the bathroom, retching and staunching nose bleeds. Her appetite had disappeared, and it was only when Eric swung by Chick-fil-a and brought home her usual that she finally ate, just to make him happy.

Chris knew something was wrong, correctly connected it to Steve, and had tried to get her to talk. Part of Em had wanted to tell her, but the other knew it'd require much more explanation, and the very thought of talking about everything exhausted her. It really hadn't helped when she'd missed Steve's call while helping get Alethea ready for bed. The voice mail had said that he'd be out of touch for a few days, but they'd talk when he got back. She'd listened to the message a lot, heart shattering when she heard the hurt in his voice.

Hand shaking, Emily tried to push all of that away for the moment and concentrate on her lecture. After all, she was no longer employed, and she needed to start looking for something before the bills started stacking up. And Indiana? She could probably do it. Chris had tried to cheer her up (and get Alethea to sleep) by driving around the city the night before and collecting flyers at houses with 'For Sale' signs in front of them. Admittedly, living here would be much cheaper than New York.

And she'd have friends nearby. She could spend more time with Alethea. S.H.I.E.L.D. probably wouldn't be able to interfere as much with her life out here.

"Dr. Harthorn?" an balding man with a thick white beard said, stepping out of the office and extending a hand.

"Hi, yes, that's me," Em stumbled over her words and internally cringed. This definitely wasn't the way to start off.

"I'm Dr. Atwell. I'm so glad we're finally getting to meet. Dr. Berry has been singing your praises for months."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Em smiled. "Christine's been very persistent about me coming out here for an interview, and now I can see why. Your department seems amazing."

"It's not what you're probably used to," he nodded, "but we do what we can. Now, would you mind stepping into the conference room? We've just got a few questions we'd like to ask before heading downstairs for your lecture."

"Not a problem," she nodded, following him out of the office and down the hall. A man and a woman were already there, chatting to one another, when they entered. After quick introductions (he was an HR representative from the university, and she the Assistant Director of the department), Em settled into the seat across from the three.

They were standard questions: what her research had been about, teaching experience, what she would bring to the university, potential projects she might be interested in working on, etc. The nerves started kicking in again when they finally got to her curriculum vitae.

"It's interesting that you didn't put NYU on here," the woman said, looking at her over the top sheet of her extensive CV.

"Oh," Emily said, flushing slightly. "I didn't really think it would be important, given how little time I'd been there."

"No?" the HR representative asked. "Can I ask why you're leaving the university?"

"They had a professor come back from sabbatical early," she tried to make the lie sound as truthful as possible. "He teaches the same courses as I do, so the decision was made that he would take them over for the professor that retired. I just wrapped up my summer courses." The S.H.I.E.L.D. HR department had e-mailed her that yesterday morning, with a reference and everything, but Em had decided against using it; if she was going to go back to academia, she wanted to list her first lecturing position in it's rightful place.

"Still, it should be on here," Dr. Atwell said, smiling at her.

"I can give you the reference, if you'd like," she forced herself to smile.

"Not necessary. We have the contact details and two reference letters," Atwell nodded. "Your courses must have really impressed Dr. Coulson, for him to send another one."

"Excuse me?" Em sputtered. _Dr. Coulson?_

"Yes. Have you not seen this?"

"No, I haven't." Atwell handed the letter over and Em quickly scanned it, skipping over her academic career; her throat closed as she fought against tears.

_Dr. Harthorn shows a dedication to her work and students that is unparalleled. When faced with a difficult pupil, she will find methods to best engage them. Subsequently, her performance was rated 'excellent' by her students._

_I have supervised Dr. Harthorn from her arrival at NYU. It is with deepest regrets that she leaves our institution. Her perseverance and willingness to meet any task head on has made her an asset that we will sorely miss. Given the opportunity, Dr. Harthorn will make a wonderful addition to your faculty._

She read the last few lines, basically saying that the university would be stupid to let her slip through their fingers, and cleared her throat while handing back the paper. "Thank you," she said softly, adjusting the frames of her glasses so she could surreptitiously wipe at an escaped tear.

"Well, if you could just give us a moment, we'll confer and get back to you in a moment."

"Oh?" Em's voice rose in surprise. "You'll be making the decision today?"

"The position's been open for a while, and you're our last candidate to interview," the HR rep stated, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "We should be done in an hour, if you'd like to grab lunch or something."

"Ok, great," Em returns a weak smile and shakes all of their hands before leaving. As she strolls across the campus to the parking garage, she tries to think about moving here. It would be so _quiet_ after New York.

But quiet could be good, she though as she slid into the car Chris had lent her, Alethea's spare car seat still strapped into the back seat. With a sigh, Em took a swig of the flat ginger ale sitting in the cup holder and rested her head on the steering wheel.

This could be her life. If Steve decided to end it, she could do this. Hell, she'd be teaching and making a pretty good salary, nothing close to her one with S.H.I.E.L.D., but the expenses would be less. Maybe she'd find a guy and get married, have a few kids and SUV with car seats and toys strewn across the back seat.

Hot tears slid down Em's cheeks.

OOO

"This would be your office," Dr. Atwell stated, throwing open the door. Emily, makeup freshly reapplied, stepped in and looked around. It was decent sized, made somewhat smaller by one wall being covered with bookshelves. A small window peaked onto the university green. An ancient computer was on the L-shaped desk.

"It's very nice," she said, folding her hands in front of her.

"Like I said before, we have lots of graduate students who would be available for research assistants. We require that associate professors teach at least four undergraduate classes."

"Of course."

"Your predecessor was in charge of the basic American history class, so you would probably take that over," the older man stated, crossing his arms across his chest.

Emily nodded and looked out the window again. After her mini-break down in the car, she'd gone to get lunch and realized, again, how quiet her life would be if she moved here. The town was a quintessential college town, where everything seemed to revolve around the 15,000 students who lived there for 9 months of the year. It surprised her how much this bothered her. She had gotten used to being able to go to art galleries, museums, or beautiful parks whenever she wanted. Shaking away this though, she turned back to Dr. Atwell.

"It's a beautiful campus."

"It's not exactly New York," he smiled, seeming to have read her thoughts. "But our World War II institute would be glad for your help. They're currently going through the items donated by a recently deceased alumnus." Emily smiled and looked at the bookshelf, picturing how she'd arrange her things.

"New York is exactly what I don't need at the moment," she sighed, glancing at her watch. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I need to return the car to Dr. Berry.

"Of course. If you're available tomorrow afternoon, we're having a graduate symposium and there are a few students who would be interested in meeting you."

"I'm not sure what I've got for tomorrow, but I can try to make it," she nodded. Dr. Atwell smiled and held the door open for her.

"You'll let us know your decision soon, I hope."

"Of course," she nodded, stepping out into the hallway. After collecting her things and saying her goodbyes, Emily walked back to the parking garage and drove back to Chris and Eric's house.

OOO

"Here," Chris said that night as she stepped into the guest bedroom Em had been staying in, tossing her a small box.

"What…I don't need this," Em said quickly, reaching to give her back the pregnancy test. Chris raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You've been moody, throwing up, you gagged when Eric made eggs this morning, you stopped smoking, and your boobs look bigger."

"Glad you've been looking at them," Em huffed, tossing the box onto the bed between them and crossing her arms across her chest. "He burnt those eggs, and I just decided I didn't want to smoke anymore. I am absolutely not pregnant. There's no way."

"Yeah? That's what I thought with Alethea." Em narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

"No way, no how."

"Yeah? Then why not take the test and prove me wrong? If you're not, great, I'll apologize, and you'll have nothing back in New York standing in your way of coming here. But if you are? You can't take move here."

"Just to prove you wrong," Emily sighed.

"Good. First thing tomorrow morning, you come get me and we'll wait for the results together."

"What? Why can't I just take it now?"

"Because you have to take them in the morning for it to give the best readings. Really, has it been that long since you've had a pregnancy scare?"

"This isn't a pregnancy scare because I'm not pregnant!" Chris chuckled and blew her a kiss before leaving the room. As soon as the door shut, Em sat on the corner of the bed and picked up the box again. "I'm not pregnant," she said softly.

They'd been so careful, Em reasoned. There was no reason to believe that she was pregnant: they'd never had unprotected sex and never had a condom break.

Her stomach clenched. What if there'd been a hole? Or they fell into the tiny 'perfect use' failure rate? God knows what the serum had done to Steve's fertility. One little slip up and they could be dealing with a whole new problem.

"God damn it," Em muttered, wrapping an arm around her stomach and doubling over. "I am not pregnant. I am not pregnant. I am not pregnant."

Glancing at the time on her cell phone, Em pursed her lips and looked at the box again. There was plenty of time to run out and get another one, just in case.

Grabbing the offending box, she stood up and walked to the bathroom, locking the door firmly behind her.

OOO

The next morning, Emily walked out of the bathroom and held up the white stick for Chris to read. Both women smirked.

"Told you."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, long chapter! Mostly to make up for the time between updates, but also because a lot has to happen! And songs? Yeah, this scene has kind of dominated my writing playlist for a long time and I couldn't figure out which one to go with, so everyone got their own.

I hope you guys like this. I've had some difficulty with figuring out how to wrap up all of this. I know a lot of you still don't like Garrett, but he's a good guy. He wants Em to be happy above all. And Steve? He found out that the woman he loves, trusts, and wants to spend the rest of his life with nearly slept with another man. Yeah, he's gonna be a bit betrayed and hurt by that.

Also, on a different note, I wanted to let you know that there might be another week between this update and the next. I'm currently wrapping up my stay in London and will be doing a lof of travelling this week, both in and out of the country, which means little time for writing unfortunately. Hopefully I'll be able to get some work done on the plane on Thursday.

Thank you for reading this, and please let me know what you think!


	50. Chapter Forty Nine

Chapter Forty Nine

Emily had gone to the graduate symposium after proving to Chris that she was _not_, in fact, pregnant, and been impressed by some of the students. It had been exciting, talking to students still passionate about their research, sharing horror stories of late nights in the office, and agreeing to send case studies or copies of papers she'd worked on. She found herself subconsciously planning out lessons, trying to figure how best to get undergraduates to engage with American history that they probably didn't even care about in middle school.

Chris had taken the initiative and gotten an appointment with a realtor, and they spent the rest of the day looking around different houses. Em could easily afford the mortgage payments nice house for less then she paid in rent now. They're nice houses in good neighborhoods with large yards, perfect for a swing set and learning how to play baseball. In every one she visited, Em found her thoughts drifting to where Steve would put his things, and if they'd have to go and get new furniture to suit both of their tastes. The garage could double as a gym if they were willing to leave their cars outside during the winter.

Ever since Chris had tossed her the pregnancy test, Emily had found it difficult to stop picturing babies with blonde hair and Steve's crooked smile. She dreamed about Steve playing with their kids, and going to dance recitals and school plays. And rather than scaring her, Em had found herself yearning for that. She wanted marriage and kids, a home of their own…

Where they could just be Steve and Emily, without all of the emotional baggage.

But without having heard from Steve, she found it hard to put her heart into making any plans. Who knew if S.H.I.E.L.D. would let him move, or even if Steve had any inclination or desire to move to Indiana? If he was willing to forgive her for her transgression, Em knew that she'd give up everything and try to find a job in New York if that's what he wanted. Hell, she'd commute to New Jersey or Massachusetts if she had to. Or maybe they could both leave the city, like Steve had talked about.

So she hadn't been able to give the university a definitive answer before she went to the airport with Eric, Chris, and Alethea. There had been an awkward 'Maybe we'll see you again in a few weeks but possibly not so keep in touch' moment with Eric, and another 'Sorry I thought you were pregnant but please come back' one with Chris. Alethea, obliviously to it all, had giggled and drooled over Em's shirt before giving her a wet kiss.

On the plane, she'd taken an hour or so to reflect on how she was shaping her life plans around a guy. Growing up, Emily Harthorn had always said that she was independent enough to walk away from a relationship if it would jeopardize her career. Now, having found Steve, she wasn't quite sure she felt the same way.

As soon as she was back in her apartment, Em set cleaning things up. Most of her packed clothes were thrown into the washer, and then she turned her attention to the mess in her study. A half-filled box of DVDs and CDs had been kicked into the corner, and Em retrieved that and set about scouring the apartment for anything she'd missed during her first perusal of the apartment. She wasn't sure where Garrett lived, but if she brought his things to S.H.I.E.L.D., he'd get them eventually. And she owed it to Steve to have everything of his out of the apartment.

Retrieving the locket and engagement ring from the strong box, however, was the most difficult part. They'd belonged to her so long that it felt strange to think about not having them nearby. Emily opened the box containing the engagement ring and sighed. She really should have it cleaned before giving it back; the same went for the locket.

When her stomach growled, it was decided. There was no food in the apartment, so she'd grab lunch while out as well. Em slipped on her shoes and grabbed the paperwork for the jewelry from the strongbox as well before putting it all in her purse. Rather than attempting to drive, she decided to take the subway.

After saying goodbye to her doorman, Emily walking into the streets of New York and headed for the train station.

OOO

"Can you fly one of those jets?" Steve asked Natasha.

"I can," Agent Barton said, stepping out of the bathroom. Steve looked at him, wondering if he was stable enough to go out on this mission. His eyes drifted over to Natasha, who nodded.

That was enough for him. "You got a suit?"

"Yeah," Barton nodded.

"Then suit up." Steve glanced at the two of them before exiting the room. He strode down the halls of the helicarrier towards the work room Stark had confiscated. They needed to get to New York City, all of them, and quickly. Who knew the kind of damage Loki could do with the Tesseract?

At least, he though as he pulled on his cowl, Emily wasn't there.

OOO

After tossing her trash in bin, Em exited the restaurant. The jewelry store was just around the corner, so she had plenty of time to get that taken care of before heading home and figuring out what to do for dinner.

The sales woman happily cleaned the ring for her, gushing out pretty it was, not too big and not too small. She'd asked when the wedding and had blanched when Em told her there wasn't going to be one. The woman's sales pitch had quickly turned to saying how she could trade in the diamond and get herself something. That made Em's stomach churn, and she quickly left the store.

She wasn't really paying attention to where she was going, just letting her feet lead the way. Going back to the apartment just didn't hold any appeal, and it was a nice day.

"Sorry!" Em said quickly when she bumped into a man on the street. He'd stopped dead in his tracks, and didn't even say anything when she apologized, just kept looking up at the sky.

Emily's first thought was that she was surprised Jane had come to the City without calling her, and then happiness that she'd gotten her device to work. A surge of pride went through her for her friend's accomplishment.

It quickly turned to horror when things started to come out of the sky.

She was rooted to the ground, unable to move as she watched something fly up to meet them. "IT'S IRON MAN!" a little boy yelled before his father scooped him up and started to run away.

When the things started to spread, flying closer towards them, the crowd panicked. People started to scream and run in all directions, bumping into one another and knocking some to the ground. Em paused to help one girl up and was nearly thrown off her feet for her efforts.

As she started running, she knew there was only one place in the city where she'd be safe.

OOO

The glass widows were blown out by the time Emily reached S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters, and the agent usually posted behind the desk was gone. Undeterred, Emily stepped through the window, the glass crunching under her shoes, and sprinted for the elevators. Of course, the power had been cut. Screaming with frustration, she beat her fist against the doors before whipping around and locating the stairs.

Her hands were shaking, and it took a minute to get the door open, but then she was flying down the stairs towards the underground floors, her way lit by the emergency lights. As she hit -2 floor, her feet flew out from under her and only her grip on the banister kept her from cracking her head on the stairs. Her legs, back, and left hand throbbed with pain from where they'd made contact with the stairs. Unsure of what had made her lose her footing, Em looked around and had to clap a hand over her mouth to stop from screaming.

Blood covered the stairs, leading to an agent lying face down on the landing below.

Emily forced herself to get up. She couldn't stay here. But as she turned to go back up the stairs, the door of the -1 floor flew open. A grey skinned monster stepped into the stairwell, said something in a garbled language and looked around. Emily was frozen in place as it said something again as it aimed its gun at her.

She ducked as the thing fired, and plaster rained down on her. It started to come down the stairs towards her, so Em threw open the door to the -2 floor and ran out.

And straight into a fire fight.

The sound of bullets being fired was all around her, and a few stray ones punctured the wall to her right. Em turned back towards the door just as it opened and the grey thing came out. She backed away, hands shaking and unsure of where to run to. It looked at her and screamed before leveling the gun on her…

"Fuck," an agent said, as it stepped over the body. Other agents streamed by as the woman offered Em a hand up. The alien had collapsed, a bullet through its head. "That was close. What are you doing here, Dr. Harthorn?"

"S-Ste-Steve."

"Captain Rogers is on the streets with the rest of his team. You need to get out of here, go find someplace safe."

"Wh-where?" Em asked, tears springing to her eyes as she fought hysterics.

"Anywhere out of the city. We don't know-" the woman's eyes widened and she fell forward against Emily, the sound of the gun still echoing in their ears. Instinctively, Em caught her and helped lower her to the ground. A man in a military type uniform walked towards them, his gun trained on them.

"Ain't it my luck day," he snarled. "An unarmed agent. You're making my job too easy, Sweet Cheeks."

"Please," Em begged, holding up her hands. "Don't shoot."

"Ha," he chuckled, "You notice where you are, girly? I don't shoot you, someone else will." Emily's heart stopped when he pointed the gun at her face, and she shut her eyes.

"It's sure as hell not going to be you." Em screamed and threw her arms over her head when she heard the gun go off, but didn't feel the bullet hit her. After a moment, she peeked through her arms and let out a shaky breath of relief. "You alright, babe?"

Emily collapsed against the wall as Garrett leaned down to check the female agent's pulse. When he didn't find one, he closed her eyes and shook his head before holstering his gun and reaching for Em. He ran his hands down her sides, looking for injuries while asking, "What're you doing here?"

"I-I thought it'd be sa-safe here." Satisfied that she wasn't hurt, Garrett put his hands on her face and pulled her in for a searing kiss.

"You're such an idiot sometimes," he said, worry etched in every word. "You've gotta get out of here." Em nodded, covering his hands with her shaking ones as he kissed her again. "Let's go. Stay behind me, and if I say run, you run."

"'K," she nodded again. Garrett pressed his lips to hers again before dropping his hands. One clenched around hers while the other grabbed his pistol.

OOO

"Nat?"

"I see 'em."

Steve looked through the Quinjet's windscreen at Stark Tower where Thor was fighting with his brother. In an instant, the jet went into a tailspin, and he clung to the bars on the ceiling to keep from being thrown around.

His heart was racing, but he forced himself not to panic. There was no ice. Barton and Natasha were excellent, trained pilots. They would get them on the ground in one piece and he would go and join the fight.

And when it was over, he'd go find Emily in Indiana and tell her that he loved her, and he wanted her to come home.

OOO

"Get behind me," Garrett hissed the order as he held out an arm to stop Em. Quickly, she pressed her back against the wall and shifted her purse higher on her shoulder. Her hand gripped the strap so tightly her knuckles were white. "Ok, we're going to get down this hall as quickly and quietly as possible. There's another door to the surface from there. I'll take you up, and then you run for the subway and get underground away from here. Got it?"

"Yeah," Em nodded. Garrett raised their clasped hands and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"When this is over, you call me and let me know you made it, ok?"

"Only if you do."

"Anything for you," he said, giving her a tense smile. "Now, I'm going to go, and you watch for my signal to follow."

Garrett edged around the corner, swinging the M16 he'd picked up from one of the dead intruders. Em peeked around, watching as he crept down the hall, his boots silent on the floor. He'd once told her how to do that, just like he'd given her basics in self defense and lock picking, but they were long forgotten. Once he was halfway down the hall, Garr raised his left hand and motioned for her to move. Em tried to follow his path, moving as quickly as she could and trying not to think about the bodies she was passing.

One of the light fixtures was dangling from the ceiling, swinging back and forth. Emily had an errant thought of this being exactly like every horror movie she'd begrudgingly watched. And she had fallen into the damsel in distress role like she was made for it. When they heard shots in the distance, Emily crouched behind Garrett as he swept an arm behind him to block her. "Fuck," he muttered, looking up the hall and chewing his lip. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Can we go back?"

"Have to. It's worse up there than it is back here." Emily nodded and stayed put as he stepped around her and stared back the way they'd come. Neither spoke as they retraced their steps.

And then Em felt a burning sensation in her stomach, and then heard the sound of gunfire. "Oh," she said, pressing a hand to the spot. It was covered with blood when she pulled it away.

"EMILY!"

Her legs gave out as Garrett came back around the corner, his eyes glued on hers. She'd barely raise her hand to point out their attacker when the first bullet whizzed by his head. Spinning, Garr leveled the weapon and fired two shots.

The shooter fell to his knees, his finger squeezing the trigger. Garrett jerked as he went to one knee and aimed. The bullet found its mark in the man's forehead.

"Baby," Garr said, turning towards her. He put the gun beside her and grimaced while reaching to move her hand. "You-" he grit his teeth. "Shot?"

"Garrett," Em's eyes were wide as she looked at his chest. Blood was already soaking through his black t-shirt, and she counted at least five holes that hadn't been there moment before.

"'m ok," he assured her even as his voice shook. "We gotta move. Can you stand?" Em nodded and winced as she forced herself to her feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she bit her lip against the pain. Even the smallest movement felt like she being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach.

Em ducked her head and leaned against the wall, taking in shaky breaths. Garrett, though, was still on his knees, one hand on the wall and the other on the floor. His shoulder was resting against her knee and she could feel him trembling. "Garr," she said, offering him a hand, "come on. Tell me wh-what to do."

He took her hand and struggled to his feet. "We n-need to…safe place."

OOO

"That's my secret, Captain," Dr. Banner said as he walked towards the flying alien thing. "I'm always angry." He turned back to it and grew larger before their eyes, his skin turning green.

Steve watched as the Hulk punched it, where he approximated at least, its nose would be. It rose up, the armor falling as it struck the ground. "Hold on," Stark's voice came over the comms. He fired on it.

Moving quickly, Steve raised his shield and hurried to cover Natasha. She, like him, was a bit less durable than the rest of the team. They could feel the heat of the explosion and some of the debris hitting his shield.

Around the city, the Chitauri screamed in anger as their big weapon went down. The team circled up, surveying their enemy on the ground.

And, for a moment, Steve let himself think it would be over soon.

OOO

"In here," Garrett panted, lurching towards the left. Emily stumbled and had to redouble her grip on his waist and arm slung across her shoulders; she bit her lip against the bolt of pain in her stomach. His bloody hand slipped off of the door handle and he growled with frustration as he wiped it on his pants before trying again. This time, the door swung open.

They staggered inside, and it took a moment for Em's eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, however, she knew exactly where she was: her conference room. There were still a few boxes stacked against the wall, but most of her equipment was gone. Gritting her teeth, Em kicked the door shut behind them and moved them towards one of the rolling chairs. Garrett hissed in pain as she helped him sit in one, closing his eyes tightly. Her purse, which she'd somehow managed to keep with her, fell heavily to the floor. "Gotta block the door," he grunted.

"Ok," Em huffed. As much as she wanted to sink into a chair herself, she knew that she wouldn't be able to get back up if she did. After taking a steeling breath, Em forced herself to push Garrett to the side and walk around the table, pulling the chairs away. She grit her teeth and pushed the table, gasping at the searing pain radiating from the bullet hole in her side. When black spots danced in front of her eyes, Em paused and rested her forehead against the table, blinking back tears.

"Here," Garrett grunted, trying to push himself out of the chair. "Let me hel-"

"Sit the fuck back down," Em growled, forcing herself to stand up. Biting her lip against the pain, she threw her weight against the table, grimacing as it screeched loudly against the tiles. When it finally blocked the door, she allowed herself to collapse and choke out a sob.

"You did great, babe," Garrett said, pushing the chair across the floor so that he was right next to her. "So proud of you." Emily closed her eyes, exhaustion washing over her. She only opened them again when Garrett's boot nudged her shoulder. "Gotta stay awake, Rosie."

"Ok." She used his leg to pull herself up, and only then noticed how labored his breathing was. "You ok?"

"Great," he tried to smile but it came out more as a grimace. "Bullets are a – " he hissed, " – walk in the park. Just need to lie down." Em nodded and struggled to her feet. Together, they managed to get him out of the chair and onto the floor.

"Let's see how bad the damage is," Em said, pushing his shirt up. She turned and gagged at the sight of his torn flesh.

"Sexy, yeah?" he grunted, grabbing hold of her hand. "Chicks dig scars."

"Shut up," Em ordered, pulling his shirt over his head. He huffed, blinking against the moisture in his eyes when she pressed the shirt against his torso.

"Fuck that hurts."

"Sorry, sorry," Em cried.

"Your turn." Garrett pushed her shirt up and wiped away the blood. "Sorry," he said hurriedly when she cried out in pain. "Gotta look, honey." He probed the bullet hole before his fingers moved to her back. "No exit wound," he muttered.

"Is that bad?"

"Could be worse," he said, trying to give her a reassuring smile. "You're gonna have a cool scar, too. With a way better story than your leg one."

"Shut up."

"Really, falling into glass drunk? Could come up with a better –" He dissolved into a cough and grimaced. Blood stained his lips when he finished.

"Garr-"

"It's ok," he muttered, reaching for his holster and handed her his sidearm. "Here. You shoot anything that comes through that door, got it?"

Em's survival instinct overrode her disgust of guns, and she nodded. She set it beside her and wrapped her hands around Garrett's shoulders, dragging him along with her as she moved to lean against the wall. He groaned, but helped her by pushing against the floor. When they finally settled again, Garrett was lying perpendicular to Em, his head resting in her lap. She tried to keep steady pressure on his torso, but the shirt was soon saturated with blood.

OOO

Steve jumped and lifted his shield so that it covered as much as of him as it could. When the grenade exploded, the blast sent him flying through the window. Before he could get his feet under him, he collided with a car and felt the wind knocked out of him.

It would be so easy to just stay here and not move, he thought. The adrenaline he'd been running on was flagging, and he could feel his skin knitting together and his broken ribs rubbing against each other. So easy to just close his eyes…

And then he heard the radios of the police officers and fire fighters clearing out the people from the bank. They were just as tired as he was, and they were still doing their job.

Grimacing, Steve pushed himself up and slid off of the car. He'd lost his cowl in the fight, but he could still feel his dog tags under his chest piece. Steve undid one of the clips on his belt and reached inside, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt the compass still there.

There were too many of them, he thought. And Natasha was right, if they didn't close the portal, there was no way they could win. Loki would send the Chitauri across the globe, felling one country after another.

And he wouldn't have a chance to say goodbye this time.

OOO

They could hear the fight still going on outside of their hid out: bullets being fired, screams of people dying, and the screeching of whatever those grey skinned _things_ were. But it wasn't as intense as it had been when they first had gotten there.

"You remember when we met?" Garrett asked. Em looked down at him and stroked his ashen cheek.

"Yeah," she nodded, her eyes heavy.

"I threw that pool game."

"Liar," Em smiled, wiping at a bit of drying blood at the corner of his mouth. Her hands were shaking and she felt faint from blood loss.

"Did," he coughed. "Knew I'd get a date if I got a kiss. So why not go for both?"

"Uh huh," Em tried to make her tone light, but she was in too much pain. "That confident?"

"Always, babe," Garrett grinned, reaching up to cup her cheek. His hand was bloody, but they were both covered in so much of it that Em couldn't bring herself to care. "Knew you were it for me right then."

"Me too," she sighed, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Gotta do me a favor now, 'k Rosie?"

"Anything."

"You've gotta go as soon as there's a break," he paused to cough, bringing up more blood. "Gotta make a run for it."

"Don't think I'm gonna be running anywhere, hon."

"You've gotta get out of here because that door's not going to hold long."

"I know."

"Ca-can you do me another favor?"

"Of course."

"Tell my parents," tears slid from the corner of his eyes, "tell 'em that I love 'em, and I'm sorry."

"How about we go tell them together?" Em asked, tears blurring her vision as she stroked his hair.

"Wish I could, babe, but I'm not gonna get the chance."

"The hell with S.H.I.E.L.D.," Em choked, "we'll go down to Tennessee and see them. They're going to be so happy."

"We can take my truck," Garrett said softly, his eyes glazing over. "I can finally take you muddin'." He was slurring his words.

"Still not going to do that," Em shook her head, making his hand slip from her cheek.

"'s fun." Garrett smiled at her before dissolving into body wracking coughs. As his body lurched, Em slid an arm under his shoulders and shifted so that Garr was lying flat on his back. The movement disturbed the pool of congealing blood they were sitting in.

"Hang on a little bit longer, ok?" Em pleaded, wiping the blood away from his mouth again.

"'Member what I said," Garrett rasped. "Get out."

"We're going to get out of this together, okay? And we can go mudding and do all of the other things I said n-no t-to. I'll even go paint balling."

"You'd hate the bruises," the corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes drifted shut.

"GARRETT!" Emily yelled, slapping his cheek until he opened his eyes again. "Come on, you can't leave me again."

"S-sorry Rosie… 'ove you." His green eyes drifted shut again.

"Garrett?" Emily said, resting her hand on his chest. "Garrett!" There was no heartbeat. "GARRETT!"

Something slammed against the door, enough to make the table move slightly.

OOO

Steve held out his arm as the shield flew back into his hand, transferred it to the other, and quickly spun to knock one of the Chitauri to the ground. He slammed the shield into another one before turning to face the oncoming wave.

He wasn't quick enough to protect himself from the shot aimed at his gut.

With a grunt, Steve fell to the ground. 'Damn,' he thought, grimacing. 'That one hurt.' As he got to his knees he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Thor knocking a car into the Chitauri. And then there was a hand in front of him, and Steve gratefully took it, letting his teammate pull him to his feet.

"Are you ready for another bout?" Thor asked as Steve pressed a hand to his stomach.

"What?" he asked, "You getting' sleepy?"

OOO

The gun muzzle poked through the door, quickly followed by a man's face.

Emily forced herself not to move, not to breathe. While Garrett mostly concealed her as she lay next to him, she didn't want to take any chances. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes as she struggled not to cry. She could feel his eyes sweeping around the room.

And then he started shooting.

Garrett's body jerked on the impact as the plaster from the wall exploded above her. Her heart pounded as she felt the bullets whizzing over her. One skimmed her leg, tearing her jeans and drawing blood. She had to bit the inside of her cheek to keep from shrieking.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

Not trusting it, Emily made herself wait, listen with every fiber of her being, for anyone coming back. Finally, she let out the breath she'd been holding and opened one eye. He was gone.

Emily sat up slowly and pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. Her hair and clothes were sticky with blood.

'Get up,' she ordered herself before she could dissolve into hysterics. 'You needed to get up and close the door or get the hell out of the building. You needed to do _something_.'

Using the wall, Em pulled herself to her feet. The room spun around her as she blinked against the black spots in her vision and the rolling in her stomach. Carefully, she stepped over Garrett and lurched towards the table.

Her shoes, slick with blood, slid against the tiles, unable to get any traction. Em's arms pin wheeled as she tried to stay on her feet. She threw her hands out to break her fall, and felt something crack in her left hand as her fell weight fell on it. Her head cracked against the floor and Em let out a wail of pain.

'Close the door,' Em ordered herself as her eyes started to flutter. 'Get to the door.' Fighting against unconsciousness, Emily forced herself to crawl to the door, jolts of pain radiating all over her body.

With her toes, Em managed to kick the door shut. And then she allowed herself to roll onto her back, and gave into the darkness.

OOO

Steve pressed a hand to the Iron Man suit, trying to figure out if there was some way to get into it, some way to start Stark's heart again. But the light of the chest piece that kept him alive had gone out.

And the weight of losing another teammate crashed into him. Steve shifted away from him and looked at the ground, his thoughts drifting to Ms. Potts, and how she would handle the news.

And then the Hulk roared.

Tony gasped ad his eyes shot open, drawing all of their attention. "What the hell?" he asked. "What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me."

Relief flooded Steve, and he had to look away from his team. Not a single member lost. "We won," he said.

Stark gave a sigh of relief. "Alright, hey, alright, good job guys." Steve smirked and looked up at Thor before turning his attention back to Iron Man, trying not to laugh. "Let's just not come in tomorrow, let's just take a day. Have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is but I want to try it."

"We're not finished yet," Thor said. Steve followed his line of sight before turning to look at the demi-god.

"And then shawarma after?" Tony asked.

"And then shawarma," Steve chuckled, getting to his feet and offering Tony a hand.

OOO

"Bloody fucking hell," Carter yelled, kicking at a piece of rubble. Angrily, he looked up at the tower where he lived and felt the urge to scream again. He could easily see his living room, and if he wasn't mistaken, what remained of his couch was lying in the middle of the street. "Fucking aliens," he groaned.

Bone weary, he turned and trudged away. All he wanted at this moment was a hot shower, a sandwich, and a warm bed. He'd been on duty for days, ever since Fury had called all hands on deck. As soon as New York City had been identified as the top target of the terrorist known as Loki, S.H.I.E.L.D. had made sure that most of their agents had dispersed around the city, evacuating civilians and helping out the Avengers as much as possible.

Carter had been stunned the first time he'd seen one of the Chitauri, and even more so when the flying, worm-like things had appeared in the sky. But the agents quickly learned that the ones on the ground died just as easily as humans did. The flying ones? Their arsenal of missile launchers didn't even make a dent in them. Thankfully, the Avengers had figured out a way to take those out.

He'd tried hailing Steve over the comms., but hadn't gotten an answer. Which, given what he'd just gone through, Carter could understand. He had heard, however, Tony Stark had managed to convince a Middle Eastern restaurant to open their doors. So good for them, he thought, they all deserved a little R&R.

Like he did.

With little chance of getting a ride, Carter began his trek to Brooklyn. He kept his comms. on, listening to the other agents call in the damage. Every once in a while, Sharon's voice drifted across as she made her way to headquarters to help clear the area. Fury had ordered the shift that had been on mandatory down time to stay and hold HQ against Loki's human minions.

As luck would have it, he did manage to catch a ride across the bridge and into Brooklyn. The battle hadn't spilled over to here, but people still crowded the streets, looking across the East River at the destroyed skyline. A few injured people, like himself, had made it back. People tried to stop him to ask what had happened, if it had really been aliens, was it over, but he ignored them all.

Shower, sandwich, bed. Shower, sandwich, bed.

The mantra helped him push through the last two miles even as his legs threatened to give out. His arms throbbed from the constant recoil of his gun, and the graze wound on his bicep didn't help at all.

Shower, sandwich, bed.

When he got to the lobby, the doorman wasn't there. That wasn't an issue, because he'd made a copy of her key right after she'd moved in. As Carter waited for the elevator, he pulled out his secure cell phone and scrolled to find her number. The first attempt to call failed, which he'd expected.

The second dropped as he stepped into the elevator.

But the third connected to the S.H.I.E.L.D. satellite as he stepped out onto her floor and limped to her door. "Hi, you've reached Emily Harthorn. I'm unable to answer the phone at this time, but please leave a short message and I'll call as soon as I can. Thank you."

"Emmie," he almost smiled at the sound of her voice. "I just wanted to let you know I'm ok, and so is Steve. My apartment is trashed so I'm going to be at yours. Think of me as protection against looters." The door swung open and he stepped inside. "Call me as soon as-"

The phone fell from Carter's hand as he looked at the pile of fresh laundry on the couch. He took another step in and saw her empty suitcase by the television.

Carter scrambled back to his phone and picked it up. It had disconnected. When he tried to call again, it wouldn't go through. "Emily," he moaned, "where are you?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Did anyone else not wonder what happened to the human minions Clint found for Loki? I've wondered about it... Hopefully this chapter meets your expectations. It fought me tooth and nail.

Please don't kill me?

Also, sorry for the delay in posting. It's been a bit crazy getting back to the States, hanging out with the family, finishing grad school, and celebrating the big 2-4. The next chapter will not take this long.


	51. Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty

_I've learned the meaning of repentance_

_Now you're the jury at my trial_

_I know I should serve my sentence_

_Still, I'm hoping all the while_

_You'll give me_

_Just one more word_

_I said that I was glad to start out_

_But now I'm back to cry my heart out_

_For just one more chance_

_We spend our lives in groping for happiness_

_I found it once and tossed it aside_

_I paid for it with hours of loneliness_

_I've nothing to hide_

_I'd bury my pride for_

_Just one more chance_

_Just One More Chance – Billie Holiday_

* * *

Sharon waved the agents on as she crept down the hall. They paused at every body they found, checking for a pulse. The few survivors they'd found were sent to lobby, where Dr. Kingston had set up an emergency triage center to help those that he could before sending them off to the hospital.

There were a few Chitauri as well, but like those above ground, they'd dropped dead after Stark went through the wormhole. In Sharon Carter's honest opinion, it was like a fucking sci-fi movie. Aunt Peggy had told her some crazy stories about what had happened during the War, but none of it compared to this.

Aliens. Fucking aliens.

"First floor cleared. Proceeding to floor two," one of the agents said over the comm. Sharon's hand drifted to her utility belt; one click echoed over the comm., giving the affirmative to keep moving. While she would have preferred more seasoned agents, most of them had been called out to help the Avengers, or had been on rotation on the Helicarrier. She was the most senior agent they could find.

They stopped at the top of a corridor that split. Sharon motioned for one of the junior agents to step beside her before she nodded and swung left while he went right. "Clear," she said. "Half of you, on me. The rest of you, with Ramirez."

The group split in two. Sharon took the lead again, making sure that her agents were in line. They had to clear the rooms as they went. The only tense moment had been when they found an enemy combatant hiding in one of the rooms with his gun pointed straight at the door. He was badly injured, but not going down without a fight. Sharon had to shove one of the rookies out of the way and felt the bullet graze her arm. Hissing, she turned and fired a single shot.

"Fuck," the man snapped.

"Stand down and I don't kill you," Sharon growled, leveling her gun on him. He glared before setting the gun down. She nodded to the other agents and they rushed, securing him with zip ties before hauling him to his feet. "Get him upstairs to Kingston, then to the holding facility."

"Ma'am," her guy nodded, ushering the mercenary out of the door.

"We're moving on," Sharon ordered. Two of her team headed back up the corridor towards the stairs, and the others fell behind her. They quickly cleared the other rooms.

"We've got some resistance on this one, Agent Carter," one of the female agents said. The door opened slightly before it collided with something.

"Ok," Sharon nodded, striding over. She set her feet and cleared her throat. "This is Agent Carter. Identify yourself." Silence. "Identify yourself," she repeated.

There was a muffled buzzing sound. After taking a deep breath, Sharon put the muzzle of her gun in the gap before moving closer and looking into the room. Her heart stopped.

"Get it open, now!" she demanded, throwing her shoulder against the door. Another agent joined her, and together they moved it enough for Sharon to get in. She climbed over the table, her eyes focused on O'Connell. "I need Kingston down here immediately," she ordered. When she reached Garrett, she knelt beside him, not even caring that her white catsuit was being covered with blood.

With the sheer amount of blood, Sharon logically knew that he couldn't have survived. But that didn't stop her from pressing her fingers to the pulse point under his jaw. When she didn't feel anything, she picked up his wrist. This was _Garrett O'Connell_, her drinking buddy, the guy she'd talked to about rough missions. He'd cheated death before, and he could damn well do it again.

"I've got a pulse for her," Walker said. Sharon hasn't even realized that he'd followed her in. She sucked in a breath and blinked back the tears gathering in her eyes. There was a job. And Garrett would tell her to do it.

"Let's turn her over," Sharon said after clearing her throat. Before she stood, Sharon closed Garrett's eyes and kissed her fingertips before pressing them to Garr's lips. "Fuck," she hissed when she saw it was Emily Harthorn.

The doctor's face was covered in blood and bruises, but it was unmistakably her. Sharon pushed away Walker's hand as she crouched beside Emily, again ignoring the pool of blood. She probed the historian's neck until she felt the weak pulse before nodding. "Where's Kingston?" she called over her shoulder as she tugged Em's bloodstaind shirt up. Blood sluggishly spilled from the bullet hole on her right side, the crimson bright against her pale skin.

"He says you need to bring her up, but he's sending one of his team down with a backboard," one of the agents in the hall said.

"Did you tell him this was Captain America's girlfriend, and he's gonna be pretty pissed if he finds out she died after he just saved the fucking world?"

"I…uh…" the agent stuttered.

"Go get the damn board and secure the hallway so we can get out of here quickly. Walker, move the table."

"Yes, Ma'am," Walker nodded, jumping to his feet. Sharon grit her teeth as she pressed her hand to Emily's abdomen. Her eyes darted around, taking in the full extent of Em's injuries, and she sucked in a breath when she saw the awkward angle her left hand was bent at.

"You can't die, got it? "she hissed. "Carter's going to kill me if you die, alright? I don't know if you've noticed, but he's kind of been in love with you for years."

"What else do you need?" Walker asked, appearing at Sharon's side.

"We're going to need a b-" Sharon closed her eyes as she stumbled over her words, "body bag. For Agent O'Connell."

"I'll see to it." And then the two women were alone again. Sharon looked down at the ashen woman a wiped her eyes on her shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing here," she demanded. "You're supposed to be in Iowa or Indiana or something." Of course, Dr. Harthorn didn't answer. "God damn it. What the hell am I going to tell everyone?" Her whole family, biological and S.H.I.E.L.D. adopted, was devoted to making sure the Harthorns were safe, and now this? This was a nightmare of epic proportions.

"You know," Sharon ducked her head, the adrenaline that had carried her through the day flagging. "My family? They're pretty invested in you. Aunt Peggy…Uncle James…Uncle Brian…Uncle Tim…they all used to talk about you when I was growing up. I used to think you and Tucker were cousins or something that we'd never met."

A buzzing sound distracted her. Frowning, Sharon looked around and saw Em's purse, its contents spilled across the floor. Her Blackberry was vibrating.

"Probably your family calling," Sharon said. She removed one of her hands from Emily's stomach and stretched for the phone, but wasn't able to reach it.

OOO

"Come on! Answer your damn phone!" Carter yelled into his cell phone. He ran his free hand through his hair and fisted it when it rolled to voice mail.

"Hi, you've reached Emily Harthorn. I'm unable to answer the phone at this time, but please leave a short message and I'll call as soon as I can. Thank you."

"Emily, please, call me as soon as you can. I need to make sure you're alright. I…I'm begging you, call me," Carter felt his eyes pricking with tears as he hung up. He wasn't going to lose her. He couldn't.

OOO

Sharon held Emily's head still as her team rolled her onto her side enough to slip the backboard underneath her. Kingston's assistant had done a quick assessment before wrapping a gauze bandage around Em's abdomen and shooking his head. "We've gotta move quick," was all he had said.

Walker and two of the other agents helped Sharon carry the historian up the stairs and into the lobby. Because the power hadn't been restored, Kingston had chosen this area for his triage as it had the most lighting. A quick glance around showed Sharon that it wasn't only S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that he was treating; some civilians had stumbled in off the streets seeking medical attention.

"Kingston!" she yelled as soon as they hit the lobby. The older man was crouched next to one of the support staff, checking her pupil reflexes. Sharon had to fight the urge to scream at him as he finished with the other woman.

OOO

"Does anyone have eyes on Captain Rogers?" Carter demanded. The chatter over the comm. ignored him.

"HEY! I NEED EYES ON CAPTAIN ROGERS!"

"Haven't seen any of 'em since they grabbed some Middle Eastern food."

"Find him now! I need-"

"CARTER! What's Emily Harthorn's blood type?"

"Sharon?"

"Blood type, STAT."

OOO

It had taken a lot of yelling in order for Sharon to commandeer a truck, given that she was pretty much tethered to Emily with the field blood transfusion Dr. Kingston had set up. Thankfully Em was a universal recipient.

Walker had jumped out and gotten a stretcher as soon as the truck had pulled up to the hospital, and the civilian they'd given a ride to as well as the driver got out as well. Sharon was starting to feel a bit nauseous from her unexpected blood donation, not having eaten in what seemed like days.

The first doctor they sent in was young and seemed to be a bit overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people spilling into the emergency room. She did a quick exam, noted something on her chart, and nodded curtly. "I'll get my attending in here –"

"Now," Sharon cut her off.

"We've got a lot of patients, Ma'am, and –"

"Now," Sharon barked. "It's pretty damn obvious that she's going to bleed out if you don't –"

"Ma'am," an older man in blue scrubs dashed in, "I'm going to need you not to harass my intern. Owens, let's let this nice woman have her arm back." Sharon held out her arm to the younger woman, ignoring the look she was getting for her catsuit. The redheaded attending looked over Em before nodding. "We're going to the OR. Page ortho and neuro."

"Got it," Owens nodded as she took the needle from Sharon's arm and pressed a cotton ball to it.

"I'm fine," Sharon snapped. "Go, Emily needs you more than me right now."

"You might want to get something to eat or some juice or something," Owens said as they started to wheel Em from the room. "Oh, and get that looked at," she nodded to the cut on her hair before thrusting Em's purse into her hands, "here's this."

Sharon stood there, not quite sure of what she should do. She scrubbed a hand over her face, took a breath, and exited the room. A nurse told her where to find the bathroom, and Sharon took a moment to collect herself. The cut on her hairline wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches, so she dabbed it with a paper towel. Since she had some time, Sharon scrubbed as much of the dust, blood, and god knows what else from her as well. Civilians…they usually don't do so well with all of that.

As she was drying her hands, Em's phone started to vibrate loudly against the sink. A glace at the caller ID made her pause for just a split second before answering it.

"EMILY?! Thank god, are you-"

"Mrs. Harthorn, this is Agent Sharon Carter of S.H.I.E.L.D."

OOO

Carter showed up sometime while Emily was still in surgery, and joined Sharon in the overcrowded waiting room. He was a wreck, and she couldn't find it in herself to make some snide comment. She's genuinely happy to see him alive and unscathed. Well, mostly unscathed.

Emily's phone kept ringing. Some of the callers were ones they recognized from their surveillance. When Carter listened to one of the unknown caller's voice mail message, he scowled. The news agencies had started to connect one of the costumed heroes with Captain America, and wanted to get, "the foremost expert's opinion on the possibility of a new Captain America."

He paced until Dr. Owens came out to give them an update. The younger woman assured them that Emily was still alive and that Dr. Kerr was doing all he could to keep it that way. After some not-so-delicate prodding by Carter, Dr. Owens revealed that Emily had already flat lined twice.

Sharon left out that part when she called to update the Harthorns, who were driving down from Vermont.

OOO

There was still no word about Captain Rogers when, three hours later, Emily was wheeled into a recovery room. Sharon had sent Carter to find them something to eat, so she had a few minutes alone with Em. "Your cousin had a lot of internal bleeding," Dr. Kerr said. "But she's lucky. A few centimeters to the right and she could have been paralyzed."

"So she won't have any long term damage?"

"Unfortunately we had to remove an ovary. She might also have some short-term memory loss from the concussion. But we won't know if there's any significant brain damage from lack of oxygen until she wakes up."

"When will that be?" they both turned to see Carter standing in the doorway. His arms were laden with vending machine junk food, adding to the look of a lost boy.

"We can't be sure," Dr. Kerr said, "she's been through a lot and right now her brain is protecting her from that."

"Thank you, Doctor," Sharon said, nodding to him.

"We'll have someone come in and check on her periodically."

"Of course."

Carter shook his hand as Dr. Kerr left, and then came into the room and deposited the food in an empty chair before collapsing into another. When he leaned forward and put his head in his hands, Sharon waited a heartbeat before walking over to him and squeezing his shoulder. "She's going to be ok."

"You don't know that."

"She's not your mother, or Aunt Peggy, and she's definitely not that whore you were engaged to. Emily's not going anywhere."

"You always know just what to say," Carter huffed, even as his hand drifted up to cover hers.

"I thought we'd discussed my lack of a bedside manner before."

"We did," he smirked before handing her a bag of crisps. "You're still horrid."

"Haven't had much practice, thank god," she shrugged. After a moment, Sharon crossed the room and sat in the chair on the other side of the bed. "By the way," she sighed after finding a comfortable position, "I'm glad you didn't die."

"Same. Get some sleep, coz. I'll call the Harthorns and update them, and then call Grandfather."

"Sounds like a plan," she yawned.

After he made the calls, Carter contemplated turn Emily's phone off completely, just to stop the incessant buzzing. Even on the silent setting, he saw the screen light up frequently. To distract himself, he watched the news and the analysis of what had happened in the city.

When Dr. Doan made his appearance, Carter muted the television, not wanting to hear his take on Captain America.

OOO

"Baby," Caroline Harthorn breathed when she entered the room. Matthew clutched his wife's shoulders and blinked back tears, while Tucker just stared at his sister. Sharon, who had gone to personally escort the Harthorns into New York City after the lock down had been initiated, stood silently behind them.

Carter moved away from the bed as Emily's family surrounded her, taking in the dark bruises developing on her face, the cast encasing her left wrist, and the intubation tube taped to her mouth. "What happened?" Tucker finally asked, looking at the two agents standing awkwardly by the door.

"Em-Emily," Carter cleared his throat, "she was caught in a fight at headquarters." Sharon glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. He caught the look and shook his head infinitesimally.

"Is she going to be alright?" Matthew asked. Caroline wasn't listening, but stroking back Emily's hair and leaning across the bed to press her forehead against hers, tears streaming off her cheeks.

"I'll get the doctor," Sharon offered.

"Where's Steve?" Tucker demanded as she turned to leave. "Shouldn't he be here?"

"We're trying to find him," Carter sighed. "It's proving a bit difficult given everything that's happened."

"You don't think…" Tuck trailed off, glancing out the window at the destruction.

"He's probably fine," Caroline whispered, reaching for her son's hand.

The three stood silently around the youngest member of their family, each touching her as if to assure themselves that she was real. Carter, feeling as though he were intruding on the private family moment, retreated to the hall and pulled the door shut behind him. Groaning, he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue. Caffeine was doing little to keep him awake at this point, but he was determined to stay conscious.

"Cart?"

"Mhmm?" he mumbled, looking up from the ground to meet Sharon's concerned look.

"You need to crash. I can stay with them, you head back to your apartment."

"Can't. Place is trashed."

"Mine, then. Or one of the safe houses."

"M'fine, Shar. I've gone on less sleep."

"Not after what we went through today."

"M'fine. The doc coming?"

"Yeah," she nodded, turning to lean against the door with him. Carter dozed off on his feet, but jerked to attention when Dr. Kerr appeared. The two agents waited outside while the good doctor briefed the family on Emily's condition. The door muffled the noise, but they both heard Mrs. Harthorn's strangled cry. It wasn't long after that that Dr. Kerr left the room.

"Let's give them a minute," Sharon said as she peeked in to see Mrs. Harthorn sobbing into her husband's shoulder. She bit her lip and pulled back, not wanting to invade on a private moment. "You think our parents would be that upset if it was us in there?"

Carter glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Sharon had surprised him today. She'd put aside her jealousy of Emily so completely. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Yours would. Mine…"

"You had Aunt Peggy and Uncle James."

"I was lucky."

"Carte-" Sharon paused when the doorknob turned, and the two quickly stood up straight.

Caroline Harthorn stood there, her eyes red and puffy. "W-would you come in?"

"Of course," Carter nodded, pushing Sharon in front of him. Caroline shut the door and took a breath before turning to face them. She gave a stifled cry before moving quickly to pull Sharon into a hug.

"Thank you," she said, her voice weak. "Thank you for everything you did. Dr. Kerr told me that you brought my Emily here."

"It…it wasn't..." Sharon stuttered. Behind Caroline, Carter raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome." When Caroline let go, Sharon was turned and pulled into Matthew's embrace, and then shook Tucker's hand.

"You too," Caroline nodded, pulling Carter in. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure. I just wish I could have done more…been there to stop it from happening."

"There's no use wishing for things you can't change," Caroline sniffled.

OOO

Carter had fallen asleep on the floor not long after he and Sharon had come back into the room. Caroline had draped a blanket over him before returning to her vigil by Em's side. The Harthorns had asked questions, ones that Sharon knew she wasn't authorized to answer, but she'd been vague in her replies.

It was just after five in the morning that Carter's phone rang. He jerked awake, ready to smash Emily's phone against the wall before realizing it was own that was ringing. "Falsworth," he grunted while sitting up. The Harthorns, who had fallen asleep around Emily, had woke up as well, but Sharon was perched on the window sill, looking like she hadn't slept at all. "You sure?" Carter asked the agent on the phone. "Great. Thanks."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Sharon asked, standing as Carter pushed himself up.

"Yeah," he nodded before popping his neck and stretching. "We've got eyes on him."

"Want help?" she smirked.

"Eyes on who?" Tucker asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I've got it," Carter smirked.

"Why don't you leave the gun with me then?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"You take away all the fun."

"Eyes on who?" Tuck repeated himself.

OOO

"Sir. Sir, someone is attempting to – correction, has entered Stark Tower."

"Put someone else on it," Tony groaned, nuzzling against Pepper. She smiled and tightened her grip on him, running her hands through his hair. It took a moment for Jarvis' statement to sink in, but when it did she sat up quickly, making Tony groan.

"Someone's in the Tower? Who?"

"It appears to be Agent Carter Falsworth of S.H.I.E.L.D., grandson of Howard Stark's friend James Falsworth, formerly of the Howling Comm-"

"Send him to Cap," Tony mumbled, pulling Pepper back down. "We're kind of busy here."

"Yes sir."

OOO

"Sir. Captain Rogers." Steve snored on, clutching the pillow tightly. Jarvis made a noise as if he was clearing his throat. "Captain Rogers, there is an angry S.H.I.E.L.D. agent headed towards your room. Shall I –"

"STEVE! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR YOU ARSE!" Steve slowly opened his eyes as the pounding on the door continued. "OPEN THE GOD DAMN – "

"Hey," Steve said, scrubbing a hand down his face. Carter looked over him, noting the fading bruises and healing cuts across his bare chest and arm. "What's –" he dodged as the irate man threw a punch, managing to hit the door instead. Steve groaned as his broken ribs rubbed together. When Carter pulled back again, he found his arms pinned behind his back.

"It would be unwise to attempt that again." Try as he might to free himself, the man wouldn't loosen his hold.

"S'okay, Thor, he's a friend."

"Is this how friends greet one another on Midgard?" Thor asked as he loosened his grip on Carter. When the agent tried to shove Steve, Thor stopped him. When Steve nodded to him, the god retreated back to his room.

"You don't bloody deserve her."

"What're you talking about?" Steve asked.

"I have been looking for you for hours, and this? This is where I find you?" he motioned to the luxurious, albeit somewhat destroyed, Stark Tower. "Do you know where Sharon found her?"

"Who?"

"Emily!"

"Emily?" Steve forced himself to straighten, even as the blood drained from his face. "She's in Indiana."

"She's lying half dead in a hospital." Carter shook with rage as he tried, and failed, to blink back the tears gathering in his eyes. "She went to S.H.I.E.L.D.," he gasped, "looking for you. And that nearly got her killed. And you," he shoved him, "you can't even bother to check in on your comms."

"She's…Emily's here?" Carter spun on his heel, burying his hands in his hair.

"You don't…Just get dressed Em's waited long enough."

OOO

Steve had pulled on the hodge-podge of clothes Pepper had found for him the night before. The pants sat high on his ankles, and the t-shirt hung loose across his chest. The shoes pinched his feet as followed Carter through the halls at a barely restrained run.

His heart was pounding. Emily… She wasn't in the hospital. It was some mistake, because she was in Indiana. She would have called him, let him know that she was coming back to the city so they could talk.

But when Carter threw open a door and stepped in, Steve stopped dead in the doorway. His eyes went automatically to the bed, but Caroline Harthorn blocked his view. The older woman stood up, the chair squeaking against the linoleum floor. "Steve," she said softly, her eyes sweeping over him. "Come in and shut the door"

"Ma'am," he muttered, forcing his feet to move. When he got closer to the bed, Steve saw Sharon and Carter standing off to the side. Both were giving him disapproving looks.

"Come here," Caroline said, pulling him into a hug. "Are you alright?"

"I'm…" he couldn't say anything as he got his first glance of Emily over her mother's shoulder. When he let out a strangled moan, Caroline broke away and rubbed his back.

"The…the doctor said we won't know how bad it is until she wakes up," Caroline said, wiping at her eyes.

"How," Steve paused to clear his throat, "how long will that be?"

"We don't know." He dragged his eyes from Emily's bruised face and towards the two agents standing by the window.

"She was supposed to be in Indiana."

"Indiana?" Caroline asked, looking from Steve to Carter and Sharon.

"I didn't know she was back until I went to her flat," Carter said. "I've been a bit busy with everything going on."

"She didn't buy her ticket until the day before yesterday," Sharon stated. "There was no way for us to know." Caroline raised an eyebrow and looked at the three people in the room.

"How do..."

"Who found her?" Steve asked.

"I did," Sharon nodded. "She was in the HQ basement, in her office. It appears that Agent O'Connell found her and was trying to get her out."

"O'Connell?" Caroline breathed.

"He's…?"

"Dead," Sharon bowed her head and clenched her fists.

"What's going on here?" Caroline demanded, stepping away from Steve and moving to shield Emily.

"Caroline," Steve sighed, "there's a lot we need to tell you-"

"Don't insult my intelligence," Caroline snapped. "I know exactly who you are." Steve tensed.

"Ma'am?"

"I'm an English teacher." Her voice softened as she turned away from Steve; she reached out and stroked Emily's bruised cheek. "Who do you think proof read her dissertation? I knew from the minute I saw you on the television."

"Knew what?" Carter asked, looking between Steve and Caroline.

"He's the Captain America they keep talking about. I don't know whose idea it was to bring him back, but you're the new one."

Steve sighed and shook his head. "If only the explanation was that simple. Are Matthew and Tucker here?"

"They're getting coffee," Caroline said, wiping her eyes again.

"It's going to be easiest to tell you all at the same time," he stated.

"We'll go get them," Carter offered, nudging Sharon. She quirked an eyebrow but nodded.

"I need some air," Caroline sniffled. "I'll get them, and give you and Emily some time alone."

"Thank you," Steve said, squeezing her hand. Caroline nodded and hugged him again before leaving.

"You're going to tell them?" Sharon hissed. "They're not auth-"

"Everything," Carter cut her off. "We knew this was a possibility."

"We need to talk to Fury about-"

"It's my call," Steve stated as he sat on Emily's bed, trying not to jostle her at all. "Fury doesn't get to tell us what Emily's family can and can't know anymore."

The two agents exchanged uneasy looks, not quite sure what had transpired on the Helicarrier. They'd both heard that Agent Coulson had been fatally injured, but the Helicarrier crew was being unusually tight lipped. "We'll be outside," Carter said after a beat, and then grabbed his cousin's arm and pulled her from the room.

When the door shut, Steve took Emily's hand in his and stroked her knuckles. He reached up to cup her bruised cheek, biting his lower lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. The only sound in the room was the loud beeping of the heart monitor, and the rhythmic hissing of the ventilator that was breathing for her. When he leaned over her, Steve wished there was some way to kiss her without disturbing the tubes surrounding her. Unable to find a way, he settled for resting his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry, Emily. I should have been there" he choked, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. A tear zigzagged down his cheek and fell onto hers. "You've gotta wake up, Sweetheart," he pleaded. "You promised me we'd go to Paris."

She didn't even so much as twitch. "You can't leave me here alone, Emily. You said you'd never leave me." Steve took a deep breath and swiped at the tears on his cheeks, sniffling loudly. "I know you can hear me. And I want to say that I'm sorry, about everything. I don't care about you and Garrett anymore. You need to wake up so that we can move forward and put all of that behind us. Because I love you so much, and I still want to marry you."

He felt something in his chest clench when he saw a single tear sliding from Em's eye towards her hairline. "Honey? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand, ok?" She didn't move. "Come on, Emily, I know you can do this." Nothing.

Steve's shoulders sagged as the silence stretched on. "Did you know I was color blind before the serum?" he asked, reaching to brush away her tear. "Couldn't see anything but black, white, and grey. And after? After, there was so much. Now I know that this," he plucked at the blanket covering her, "this isn't light grey, it's sky blue. When I woke up, it was the same way. My past, what's going on now, you…it's not black and white. I told you that you could always talk to me your past, and when you tried to tell me that you were struggling with Garrett being alive, I didn't want to hear it."

He paused to clear his throat and shook his head. "So I'm sorry. And I'm going to try and make it up to you. _But you have to wake up_. I can't do this without you, Emily. I just found out that there are aliens and met a few gods. And you're the one person I can talk to this about. I love you, and I'm sorry, and I need you. So please, please don't leave me alone again, Sweetheart. Please?"

When there was a soft knocking, Steve wiped his cheek on his shoulder and sniffled again. "Yeah," he croaked while leaning towards Emily. As he brushed his lips against her temple, the door swung open to reveal the Harthorns.

"Ok," Steve nodded, clasping Emily's hand tightly. "We have a lot to go over."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So here's the chapter. Hope it met expectations.

I'm hoping that Sharon came across as a more sympathetic character. I know I've made her the villain in this story, and *fingers crossed* this chapter helped explain a few of her issues with Emily. If there weren't clear, I'm more than happy to discuss them!

And the bit about Steve being color blind? That's on his enlistment forms.

As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!


	52. Chapter Fifty One

Chapter Fifty One

_Pull me in_

_Drown my fear_

_Could you wait another day,_

_Knowing that I'll come back_

_I'll come back no fear_

_Cause it was_

_All you wanted_

_And all I needed_

_But all I gave up, now _

_Could you hold me tighter_

_When worlds collide_

_Just hold me down right now_

_All You Wanted by Sounds Under Radio_

* * *

"So, just to clarify," Tucker said, holding up a hand to silence Steve. "You're telling me that Opa Josef was actually a German defector who made some kind of steroid that made you into this?" he motioned in Steve's general direction.

"Yes. Dr. Erskine developed the serum as part of an allied effort to create super soldiers."

"My father was a medical doctor," Caroline stated, "who was killed in a car accident."

"I'm sorry, but that was a cover story set up by S.H.I.E.L.D's predecessor, the Strategic Scientific Reserve."

"It's not physically possible for you to have fought in World War II," Matthew chimed in.

Steve sighed and buried his face in his hands. This would be so much easier if Emily were able to help him with it. Part of him wanted to yell at how they could question this when they'd just seen aliens attack Manhattan, but the larger, more reasonable part knew that it wouldn't accomplish anything.

That didn't stop Carter, however, and he cleared his throat. "Might I remind you of what just happened outside?" The Harthorns turned to look at the agent before looking at each other. "Aliens. So what's difficult to believe about him being a senior citizen?"

"Not helping," Steve groaned. When his stomach grumbled loudly, he sighed.

"Let's take a break," Carter offered. "Grab some breakfast or something."

"The cafeteria's open," Matt said. "I'm not hungry. I'll stay with Emily if you all want to go get something."

"We need to have a family meeting," Caroline nodded to her husband. "We'll meet you two down there."

"Ok," Steve said. Before he left the room, he leaned across Emily and whispered, "I love you and your family, but they're as stubborn as you are," before kissing her cheek. He could imagine her laughing at him, and telling him that there was a simple way of making them understand, that it was right in front of his eyes.

But she stayed silent, not even registering that anyone was in the room with her.

When they stepped outside of Em's room, Steve sighed and waited for Carter to take the lead. "Tough crowd," the Brit stated.

"You're telling me. How'd S.H.I.E.L.D. get Emily to believe all of it?"

"Well," Carter said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "they had you, unconscious and newly dug out from the ice. She's an expert on the Captain America lore, so she knew your background, and we had all of the evidence conveniently at our disposal. Plus, Coulson. And just think, we haven't even told them about Garrett." He glanced at Steve, who hung his head and ran a hand through his hair.

"I don't think they're going to believe any of it until Emily tells them it's true."

"There's always that," Carter agreed. "Or they'll just say the bump on her head scrambled her-"

"Don't even joke about it," Steve ordered, his hands clenching into fists.

"She's going to be fine, Steve," Carter sighed, clapping his shoulder. "Medicine's come a long way in 70 years."

OOO

Steve finished his meal quickly, eating mechanically and not tasting any of it. The four didn't talk, and the silence was punctuated only with silverware scraping against plates.

"I've got to call my grandfather," Carter said as soon as he was finished. "I'll see you back upstairs."

"Ok," Steve nodded, pushing around a bit of egg on his plate.

"I'm gonna go too," Tuck said as he pushed back from the table. "Lauren and the kids…"

"I might as well call my brother so he can update the family," Caroline sighed. When the three left, she paused long enough to press a kiss into Steve's hair and to squeeze his shoulder. He briefly covered her hand with his.

He was dead tired. And sore. All he wanted right now was a long soak in the ridiculously large bathtub in the bathroom Stark had let him use, with Emily. Steve closed his eyes and let himself picture it; her glass of wine balancing on the rim of the tub as her hands worked the knots in his shoulders like she did after a long session in the gym. Her hair falling from the pins she'd used to keep it out of the water, tickling his shoulders…

Steve jerked awake, having dozed off long enough for a younger girl to appear to bus the table. "Sorry," he mumbled, piling the silverware onto the tray and handing it to her. She shrugged and walked away, but glanced over her shoulder at him. Heaving a sigh, Steve stood up and trudged back towards Emily's room.

He paused to steel himself at her door, hand resting on the knob. In the back of his mind, he though of how he'd much rather take on a couple hundred more of the Chitauri than go back in that room and see his girl like that. "Anything…?" Steve asked as he stepped inside. Matt looked up and met his eyes before shaking his head.

"No, nothing's changed," the older man's voice was gruff. Steve saw the tear tracks on his cheeks but didn't say anything as he took up the chair on Emily's other side and reached out to take her hand, mindful of the IV line. "Where'd everyone go?"

"Had to make some calls," Steve said. Matt nodded, his eyes drifting back to Emily as they fell into silence again. The rhythmic beating of Emily's heart monitor and the hiss of the ventilator was lulling Steve to sleep when her father spoke again.

"I didn't do my job."

"Huh?" Steve wiped his free hand across his face.

"I didn't do my job," Matt said again. "You make a promise to yourself when you find out that you're going to be a dad, that you're going to do everything you can to protect your kid from getting hurt. And when you hold 'em for the first time…You realize that it's your responsibility to keep them safe from the world. You make a promise. And I didn't do my job, and now my little girl is paying for it."

Steve swallowed hard and shook his head. "There was no way of knowing-"

"I know. Who expects aliens to invade Manhattan?" Matt asked, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "You can teach your daughter to fish, and change a flat tire, and check the oil, but how do you tell her to fight off space invaders?"

"You can't, Sir. And I know Emily wouldn't want you to blame yourself-"

"For what happened to her?" Matt looked up and met his gaze again. "I know she wouldn't. But that won't stop me from doing it." Tears sprang to his eyes as he shook his head and took a deep breath. "Y'know, I never thought I'd have a daughter. Caroline and I…we both wanted a big family but things didn't work out the way we wanted, and we were happy and content when it was just us and Tuck."

Steve nodded, not quite sure what he could say. "Anyways," Matt continued, "I told myself that it was better with just one kid. I'd grown up fine as an only child. Carol and I could focus on Tuck, make sure he went to the best schools, joined all the clubs he wanted. And having a boy?" he gave a watery chuckle, "Just made it all the easier. I knew how to raise a boy. I knew I would play with race cars, and teach him to throw a spiral, tell him how to treat a lady right…having my boy was enough."

"And then," he sobbed and pressed his lips together, "and then when Tuck was ten, Carol told me that she was pregnant. And I didn't want to believe it, because we'd miscarried before and I couldn't get excited about a baby we were going to lose. I didn't…I didn't want to get my hopes up that I could be a dad again. It wasn't until Carol was three months along that I finally let myself believe that it might happen for us." Steve blinked quickly against the tears gathering in his eyes.

"When the doctor handed Emily to me that first time I…I was terrified." Matt chuckled and wiped at his eyes. "You never realize how big and scary the world really is until you're holding your daughter for the first time. There's a lot more that can hurt her." He chuckled again and reached up to stroke back Emily's hair. "You should have seen her when she and her first boyfriend broke up. I thought Carol and I were never going to get her to come out of her room. It took Tuck coming home and threatening to egg his car for her to actually talk to us."

"Yeah?" Steve smiled.

"Yeah," Matt nodded. "She didn't want her brother to get in trouble. Not that he would have done it," he assured Steve, who nodded. "But sometimes…She's my little girl. She's already been through enough with Garrett, and now this?"

Steve clenched his jaw, wondering if now was the time to tell him. "There's more that I need to tell you about what's been going on since Emily came here."

"I know, I know," Matt held up his hand and closed his eyes. "But you have to understand what you're asking of us. You're trying to rewrite Caroline's family history, and ask us to believe that you fought in World War II."

"It sounds ridiculous, I know," Steve conceded. "But it's true."

"Part of me doesn't want to believe it's true, because if it is," Matt looked like he was debating his next words.

"If it's true…" Steve prodded.

"It means my daughter was only in this city because of you."

The words hung between them. Steve swallowed hard and looked away, his stomach sinking. Because he was right. Emily had only moved to New York because they'd found him. She's only been at S.H.I.E.L.D. because he should have been there.

All of this, her being there, her getting shot…it was his fault.

Steve sat back in his chair, pulling his hand away from Emily's. It was like he'd been punched in the gut. "Forget I said it," Matt said in a hushed voice. "I don't blame you, Steve."

"No, you're right," Steve shook his head. "Emily wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for me. She'd have gone to law school."

"Em's not cut out for law school, so don't go there," Matt sighed.

"I, uh, I'm gonna go for some air," Steve said, standing suddenly. Emily's father nodded to him as he walked around the bed and paused at the door. Steve looked over at his girl and felt his throat constrict before he walked outside.

OOO

"Any idea where Rogers is?" Sharon asked as she strode up the hall towards Carter. She'd changed from her catsuit into a pair of old jeans and black S.H.I.E.L.D. work out t-shirt.

"With Emily," he shrugged, turning the phone over in his hand. Sharon glanced at it before raising her eyebrow.

"Everything okay at home?"

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded, running a hand over his face. "Grandfather wants to talk to him. Didn't know how to tell him that Steve might not want to." Carter sighed and leaned back against the wall. "What's in the bag?"

"I thought Rogers might want some clothes that fit. And I brought some things that might convince the Harthorns of what's been going on."

"Such as?" She rolled her eyes and set the duffle bag on the floor before rummaging in the smaller bag hanging from her shoulder.

"I'm not quite sure what all of her notations are, but this is a start," she said while handing him a few files with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo embossed on them.

"You took these from headquarters?"

"They're not going to miss them for a while," she shrugged. Carter smiled at his cousin and flipped through the papers; there were field reports from the search for Steve, a few documents about Hydra and the SSR, and a picture of him half extracted from the ice. A disk with a post-it note stuck to it slid out, and Carter turned it over before reading Em's short hand note: 'UR CA PNR ~44'.

"These will definitely help."

"Thought so. I'm headed back; we're shorthanded and could really use the help getting HQ back in order," she said.

"I'm going to stay here, just in case they need anything," Carter huffed while getting to his feet.

"You need to get out of here for a while. Maybe go back and see what you can salvage from your penthouse?"

"I can do that later. The landlord already called and said that they're putting double security on for the foreseeable future…looters and all that."

"Fine," she sighed, digging in her pocket and withdrawing a key. "My place is still intact if you need anything."

"Thanks," he nodded, slipping the key into his pocket. When he moved to hug her, she held up her hand to stop him.

"I just showered, Cart."

"Are you saying I smell?"

"Are you denying it?" He raised an eyebrow and sniffed his shirt before wincing. "Thought so. I raided your locker. Change of clothes is in the bag," she nodded towards the duffle.

"God, I love you sometimes."

"Yeah, yeah," she chuckled before handing him the second bag. "There's something from Kingston in there too. Call if you need anything."

"Will do," Carter nodded. When she'd gone, he dug through the bag and pulled out a grey plastic case. Carefully, he pried it open and smiled. "Perfect." After collecting the bags, he hurried back to Emily's room, slipping the case into his pocket.

Now, if he could just get her family to leave the room for a bit.

OOO

"_Mon coeur qui bat," she sang the last few words of '_La Vie En Rose'_ under her breath. Emily looked around at the people dancing, a smile tugging at her lips as she smoothed her dress. She recognized a few uncles and aunts, cousins, and even a friend from high school. Grandma and Grandpa Harthorn were revolving slowly in one corner, while Grandmere and Grandpere Black danced enthusiastically. A vaguely recognizable older man in a Colonel's uniform sat close to her at the bar, sipping whiskey and tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the music. Em watched a woman in a red dress throw her head back and laugh as her Asian partner spun her before pulling her back and leaning in to whisper something in her ear. _

_Emily smiled at the officer that walked towards her, his hat tucked under his arm. She set down her drink, turning expectantly to face him. "Would you like to dance, Ma'am?" Steve asked, holding out his hand. _

"_Yes, I would," she smiled as he placed his hat on the bar beside her. He easily cut through the crowded dance floor and found them a spot. His rough hand held hers as they swayed to the band, and Emily rested her head on his chest. Contentment spread throughout her body._

"_I am very proud of you." The voice had changed, and she realized that her partner had as well. An older man with wire-rimmed glasses was now dancing with her. "You have done well, my Emily." His German accent sounded strange on her name. _

"_Opa?" she said, using the German word for grandfather. Erskine smiled and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Emily blinked tears away and jolted when she heard gunshots. Her grandfather collapsed in her arms. "Opa!" she screamed, falling to her knees under his weight._

_But then it was the woman who'd protected her at S.H.I.E.L.D., not Erskine, clutching her hand. "Get out," she rasped._

_Emily gasped, and when she blinked, Garrett was lying in her arms. "Baby," he groaned. Emily screamed when she saw his wounds. Half of his face was gone, and his torso was in bloody tatters. "Help."_

"_I-I will. Tell me what to do!" she screeched, pressing her hands to a shrapnel wound. He moaned, and she felt his hot blood on her hands._

"_Emily," Erskine had reappeared beside her, blood staining his chest. "You cannot save him." _

"_You can't save him," Steve echoed. His skin was a bluish hue and ice clung to his hair. "Emily, there's nothing you can do."_

"_Rosie," Garrett groaned._

"_No," she ordered, "I'm not giving up. You came back for me, damn it!" She looked over her shoulder at the two men behind her. "Help me!" It was then that she realized that blood was running down her leg. Emily inhaled sharply as her eyes landed on the growing stain on her dress. _

"_Go," Steve urged her. "Emily, you've gotta go. You promised me Paris."_

"_There's nothing you can do," Erskine sighed. _

"_I can… I can get him out of here!" she screamed. "Help me!" Tears streamed down her face, and it was getting harder to breathe. _

_And then Garrett was gone. Emily looked around, gasping at the pain radiating from her stomach. Everyone was gone. _

"_He's waiting for you." She turned to see the woman in the red dress standing there. "He's waited a long time for you." _

"_I don't," Em doubled over, clutching her stomach. Her wrist started to ache. "It hurts."_

"_My dear girl," she knelt and stroked Em's cheek. "It'll all go away when you wake up." _

"_I am awake!" _

"_I'm so glad he found you. Tell my family I'm fine, won't you?" _

"_So proud," Erskine smiled. He held out his hand for the woman, who nodded and took it. "My Emily." _

"_Wait!" she gasped when they turned to walk away. They didn't seem to hear her. "Stop, ple-" she gagged and clutched at her neck. Emily couldn't clear her throat…couldn't breathe…_

OOO

Tucker looked up from his magazine and furrowed his eyebrows. He could have sworn that he'd seen Emily twitch, but she hadn't moved. Sighing, he shifted in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position that didn't kill his back. But when movement caught his eye again, Tuck set the magazine aside and stood up.

"What is it?" Caroline asked, taking off her reading glasses.

"I could've sworn –" Tuck tensed when Em made a gagging sound.

"I'll go get the doctor," Carter said, glancing at Emily's heart monitor, which had started to beep more rapidly. He tried not to smile as he hurried from the room.

"Emmie?" Matt leapt to his feet when she gagged again.

They all cried out when Emily's eyes flew open and she started to claw at her throat. She was retching, panic shining in her brown eyes. Tucker quickly grabbed her hands and pinned them down when she reached for the tube taped to her mouth. "GO GET THE DOCTOR!" he screamed.

Caroline stifled a sob as she ran from the room. "I've got you, Sis," Tuck said, trying to stop Emily from thrashing so much. "Dad, get her legs." Matt nodded and laid across her legs, ignoring the small amount of blood that had begun to seep through her bandages. "It's ok, Emily," Tuck used the tone he used with his own kids when they were afraid. "We'll get you sorted out in a-"

"What happened?" Dr. Kerr demanded as he ran in, a brigade of nurses and interns behind him.

"She's awake," Tuck said, stepping aside when Dr. Kerr motioned for him to. Nurses took Matt's place, and the two men hurried to hold up Caroline, who looked ready to collapse.

"Push diazepam and get me an extubation tray," Kerr ordered. "Emily, I'm Dr. Kerr. I'm gonna need you to relax just for a minute until we can get this tube taken out, alright?" Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she continued to gag and thrash.

"Oh my god," Caroline sobbed, her legs giving out. Tuck and Matt caught her before she could hit the floor, but Kerr shook his head.

"I need you out of here."

"Ok," Matt nodded.

OOO

Steve kept his head bowed as someone shuffled into the prayer room. People had come and gone over the last two hours, each seeking a moment of solace before returning to their loved one. They ignored each other for the most part. His phone had kept ringing, but he ignored that as well. If the team needed him for anything, it could wait.

He'd come here, hoping to find something, anything, but he didn't. He only felt tired and so beaten down. Steve had removed his dog tags and held the Saint Michaels medal Emily had given him for his birthday in his clenched fist. He'd prayed as soon as he'd gotten there, but had lapsed into silent pleas for Emily to wake up, and then just silence.

Matt's words kept echoing in his head. _"It means my daughter was only in this city because of you."_

When the door slammed open, Steve didn't move; he didn't even twitch when Carter muttered an apology to everyone and hurried over to him.

"You've got to come upstairs," Carter hissed in his ear.

"Emily's family needs some time to themselves."

"Emily's waking up." Steve's head jerked up so fast his neck kinked. "Thought that'd get your attention. Come on."

They don't even bother with the elevator, but run up the stairs and tore through the hallways, ignoring the nurses yelling at them to stop running. Carter managed to huff out that he'd given Em something that S.H.I.E.L.D. used to get their agents back on their feet quickly, but Steve didn't really care. All he wanted right now was to see her awake.

"What's wrong?" Steve demanded when they skidded to a halt by her door. Caroline was sobbing into Matt's shoulder while Tuck rubbed her back.

"It…She just gave Mom a bit of a scare. The Doc's in there with her now," Tuck said before pressing his lips together tightly. Steve raised an eyebrow and turned back to face Carter.

"What exactly did you give her?"

"It just speeds up recovery," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "She's –" When the door opened, everyone turned to look at the nurses filing out.

Dr. Kerr was sitting next Emily, flashing a light in her eyes and nodding. "Everything seems to be in order, Ms. Harthorn. You're very lucky." Dr. Owens, the intern, was notating something in Emily chart.

Steve felt his knees buckle when he saw Emily give the doctor a tired smile before her eyes drifted over to her family in the doorway. "Hi," she said softly before rubbing her throat. The tube had been removed, but he could see a smaller line running from across her bruised face and under her nose. Her bed had been raised so that she was sitting up, but she looked tired enough to sleep again.

"Your throat's going to be sore for a while," Dr. Kerr said quickly. "And we're going to need to change the bandages on your abdomen. You might have torn some stitches." Emily nodded and gave him the 'ok' sign. "I'll let you say hello to your family, and then I'll come back and we'll talk about what's been going on while you've been sleeping."

"Thank you," Matt said, reaching to shake his hand. Kerr nodded and smiled at them all before he and Owens left.

"You scared the shit out of me," Tuck choked out as he walked towards Em's bed.

"Sorry," she whispered. And then she had disappeared into her family's embrace, her mother sobbing against her shoulder. It wasn't until she hissed in pain that they pulled away.

"What hurts?" Caroline demanded. Instead of speaking, Em lifted away the blankets, looking at the small bloodstain on her hospital gown, and seemed to realize there was a cast on her arm for the first time. Her eyes grew wide, and then she shook her head, pressing her fists to her eyes.

"Garrett…" Her family exchanged looks.

"He didn't make it," Carter said, pushing off of the door and stepping into the room. Emily met his gaze and nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. She held out her arms, and Carter cleared his throat before walking over and wrapping his arms tightly around her. She winced slightly, but redoubled her grip on him. When he pulled away, she kissed his cheek.

"You ok?" Carter looked incredulous for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"You're the one in the hospital bed, and you're asking if I'm alright?" She smiled when he rested his head on her shoulder. "I swear to God, Emily, I'm putting you in a bubble and you're never allowed to come out. You scared the hell out of us."

"Sorry," she said again. Her eyes drifted over to where Steve was standing, and she gave him a tentative smile.

"Here, honey, have some water," Caroline grinned, pressing a paper cup into her cast-free hand. Em winced when swallowing, her eyes still on Steve. When Tuck cleared his throat, however, her attention shifted to him. Steve watched as he moved his fingers rapidly, his eyes trained on his sister to see her reaction.

"Why don't we keep this in a language we all understand," Carter said, watching the exchange as well. But when Emily gasped, they understood what Tuck had been telling her.

"You told?" she asked, looking from Carter to Steve.

"What d'ya mean 'you told'?" Tuck demanded. "It's all non-sense, isn't it?"

"They deserve to know," Steve said, stepping into the room at last. Emily groaned and laid back, putting her hands over her face.

"Honey?" Caroline frowned, "You okay?"

"Gonna be sued," Em muttered. "Breech of non-disclosure agreement."

"Breech non-disclosure agreement? What non-disclosure?" Matt asked, going into lawyer mode. Tuck frowned as well.

"What contract did you sign? And why didn't you have one of us look over it?"

"I'm not going to let Fury sue you," Steve shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Absolutely not," Carter seconded. "Don't even think about it."

"I made the call," Steve said, walking towards her. "It was my choice to tell them about what's been going on."

"Hold on just one minute," Caroline snapped, warding off everyone while moving to block Emily. Her voice was softer when she turned to her daughter and stroked her hair, "Honey, you hit your head. You're not thinking clearly. Steve couldn't have fought in World War II. And he –" she jabbed her finger in Carter's direction, "hasn't been stalking us."

"Maman," Em groaned. "Please."

"Is this a bad time?" Dr. Kerr asked, rapping his knuckles against the door.

"Perfect," she sighed.

"You might want a bit of privacy," Kerr said, looking around the room. Carter, her brother, and father kissed her forehead, but her mother grabbed her hand.

"I'm staying."

"You don't have to," Emily said.

"I'm staying," Caroline repeated. She stared down Steve who shook his head.

"I'll wait outside," he said softly. When he met Em's eyes, she gave him a sad smile and nodded.

The four men waited outside, not speaking as they leaned against the wall. Steve, who was closest to the nurses station, tried not to listen to the gossip, but he clearly heard that they'd never had a patient wake up as violently as Emily had.

It was worse when they heard Emily start crying.

OOO

Around ten o'clock, Emily forced her family to leave. She'd been sleeping (and crying) off and on all day, and told her parents that they should go get some sleep at her apartment. They'd been reluctant to go, but Em told them she wanted some time alone.

"Call me if you need anything," Caroline ordered before pecking Emily's cheek.

"I will," she agreed. "There's towel in the –"

"We'll find everything," Matt smiled. "Get some sleep. We'll be back first thing in the morning."

"What d'ya think about calling Lauren and the kids tomorrow?" Tuck asked.

"Grab my make-up bag and laptop, and we'll Skype with them so Brandon can see I'm ok," she smiled tiredly.

"I'll make sure they get to your place before I check in with S.H.I.E.L.D.," Carter said, pushing off of the windowsill. "I'll come back tomorrow, alright?"

"You have a place to stay?" Em asked, hugging him tightly.

"Sharon's offered her flat."

"There's always mine if you want," she offered, but he declined. "Tell…tell Sharon I said thank you."

"Of course." The four left at the same time, all of them looking over at Emily as they filed out.

"I…er…" Steve said, scratching the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to-"

"Hi." His shoulders slumped when she smiled tentatively at him.

"Hi," he smirked. When Em held out her hand, he crossed the room and took it, letting her draw him to sit on the bed.

"You've been avoiding me all day."

"I've been right here," he countered, shaking his head. Her casted hand reached up to tap his temple.

"Here. You've been gone all day." Steve ducked his head and swallowed against the lump that had grown in his throat.

"You almost died on me," he said, his voice gruff with unshed tears. He brought their clasped hands to his lips and tenderly kissed her knuckles.

"Sorry," she whispered. Steve let out a harsh laugh and swiped his thumb under his eyes. Her eyes were shining with tears when they met his before she looked away, her gaze caught by the television that was on mute. The 24-hour news cycles had been analyzing the 'Battle of Manhattan' as they were now calling it, and every once in a while she'd see a flash of red, white, and blue.

"I should have been there," he said.

"You were a bit busy," she replied, jerking her chin towards the TV. He turned in time to see Captain America slamming his shield into one of the Chitauri before throwing it to ricochet off of a car. "You were saving the world...again."

"You were supposed to be in Indiana," Steve said, reaching out to stroke the deep purple bruises on her cheekbone and eye. Emily shrugged before hissing in pain. He stood and reached for the plastic handle draped over the bed's rail, ready to give her a dose of pain meds, but she stopped him.

"I'm fine. I'm pretty sure I fell down some stairs," she sighed, relaxing against her pillows.

"You don't remember?"

"Everything's a bit hazy," Em confessed. "The doctor said that's probably because of the concussion." What she didn't tell him that her brain was apparently trying to make her remember through the short dreams she'd had during her naps. Cautiously, Steve sat back down and reclaimed her hand.

"Why'd you go to S.H.I.E.L.D., Emily? Why were you even in Manhattan?"

"Because I can't move to Indiana," she said, her lower lip quivering. "I got the job, and I found a nice house, but I don't want to move."

"You got the job?"

"I say all of that, and all you hear is I got the job," Em huffed.

"You should take it." Her eyes widened and she shook her head, pushing away his hands.

"I don't want to move to Indiana! I know you're mad about what happened between me and Gar-" she sobbed and pressed her hand to her mouth, an image of Garrett's body flashing before her eyes, the sound of bullets striking flesh echoing in her ears.

"Emily, Emily stop!" Steve ordered when she started to retch, her hand shooting to cover the stitches on her stomach. He quickly grabbed a plastic bin from her bedside table and set it in her lap before rubbing her back. The heart monitor was beeping rapidly, and he thought that any minute one of the nurses was going to barge in and demand that he leave.

When she finally calmed down, Steve poured Emily a glass of water and got a wet washcloth from the bathroom. As she passed the cloth over her face, he picked up the small plastic handle and depressed the button. There was a soft beep, and he let out a sigh of relief, knowing that her dose of pain meds would be hitting her in a few minutes.

"I'm sorry," Em said while depositing the washcloth on her rolling tray table.

"You don't have to-"

"I'm sorry."

"Emily-"

"I'm sorry." Steve shook his head and stood up, crossing to the other side of the bed. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop," he sighed, rearranging the various wires attached to her.

"I'm sorry." Satisfied he wouldn't unplug anything, Steve sat beside her and swung his legs onto the bed. "I'm sor –"

Steve cut her off with a kiss. "Now stop it," he said, "because I'm not mad at you."

"You should b-"

"Emily," his voice was stern. "We're not talking about this right now."

"But –"

"Nothing." Steve pressed his lips to hers again, mindful of her cuts and bruises, the wires, and the gentle hissing of the cannula tube dispensing oxygen.

"I –"

"Emily," he said in an exasperated tone.

"Love you."

"I love you too." Emily nodded drowsily. Steve pressed a kiss to her forehead and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. When she settled against his shoulder, he hit the button so that the bed lowered enough for her to sleep comfortably.

Emily tilted her chin up as her fingers curled around his shirt, and Steve leaned down to press his forehead against hers, watching as the worry and pain left her face as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: **A big thank you to **pizzagirl** and **blown-transistor** for helping me pull this chapter together.

As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!


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